


Matcă

by Triddlegrl



Series: Lycan Verse [5]
Category: Arthurian Mythology, Glee
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Alternate Universe - BDSM, Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, Alternate Universe - Werewolf, Arthurian, M/M, Magic-Users, Mpreg, Multi, Other, Past Abuse, Rape/Non-con Elements, Science Fiction & Fantasy, Vampires, soulbonds, werewolf Klaine
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-25
Updated: 2016-08-03
Packaged: 2018-05-16 03:52:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 112,951
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5812798
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Triddlegrl/pseuds/Triddlegrl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As Pack Westerville recuperates after war with a dangerous vampire coven everyone looks forward to a new addition to the Alpha family. Only there are some who still worry that Kurt isn't fit to be the Alpha's mate. With hostility growing in the hearts of their human neighbors and the other Packs loosing faith in the Anderson's ability to protect their children, now more than ever Blaine needs a strong partner at his side, and yet it seems like everyone would rather Kurt focus on the den - including Blaine! But Kurt has never before taken a back seat just because someone told him to, and he certainly isn't going to start now.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Let It Go

**Author's Note:**

> This is a continuation of the lycan!verse started in Mângâiere. You absolutely need to have read that or this is all going to be very confusing for you.
> 
>   
> I came to win, to fight, to conquer, to thrive.  
> I came to win, to survive, to prosper, to rise.  
> To fly.  
> Get ready for it.  
> I came to win.  
> \- Fly. Niki Minaj (feat. Rihanna)

The girl wasn’t really hiding under the bed. The truth was, there were over a hundred people crowded into the home of Patrick and Judy Schiller and while Judy Schiller would be the first to tell you that her home was normally a spacious and elegant space, that night it was bursting at the seams. The room downstairs with all the televisions on had been hot and sticky with the press of bodies, stifling under the weight of anticipation as alcohol exchanged hands and voices murmured quietly (and not so quietly at times) a ceaseless repetition of predictions and numbers.

She could not remember a time when her life could not be reduced to a series of numbers on repeat.

31: New York.

55: California.

It had sent the girl in search of the quiet and the cool, a space free of nervous glances and suspicious eyes. Free of fitfully muttered numbers. So okay, maybe she was hiding. She doubted her parents didn’t know. Though not quite five yet the girl was very capable and smart for her age.  Or as Mother would say, “that child is a bit funny.”

They hadn’t said anything when Mother had walked into the room to fetch a silk wrap (stately heels clicking like the tick of a clock). She’d prattled about not appearing in front of the reporters looking like a dowdy senator’s wife, and Father had warned her against stealing attention from the race, because she’d never be anything but beautiful.

She’d spotted Mother’s wrap, fallen off the edge of the bed and partially hidden under the edge of the bed skirt and she’d sent it sliding across the floor to nudge he father’s shoe. He’d picked it up without a word.

34: Texas.

27: Florida.

A rapid knock on the door, the click and swish of a door opening and a pair of polished loafers stepped heavily into view.

“Senator Riley they’re getting ready to call Ohio. We’ll need you downstairs for the press.”

21: Pennsylvania

Mother had hurried from the room (probably fretting with her hair as she went) exclaiming excitedly that ‘this was it’ they were headed to the White House. She could feel it.

The girl could too, but she could not explain why for months this knowledge had filled her with a growing dread, akin to the dark swell of music in a movie just before something horrible happened.

Father’s feet paused in the doorway, calling after Mother that he would be along in a moment. Her belly ached and she curled into a ball, shivering as cold washed over her body, as if the temperature in the room had suddenly dropped.

“Are they here?” Father asked the second pair of shoes still in the doorway, voice secret and hushed. If the man gave a reply it was not a spoken one because a moment later Father spoke again.

“Good. Let’s finish this.”

He sounded resigned. Horribly so. It made the girl think of a deer she’d once seen her father shoot, gasping for breath and writhing among the leaves. There had been birds in the trees, great big black ones. They had looked down with pitiless expressions as the deer had quivered and writhed in the throes of death, and then they had looked at her and told her that it was the way of the world for things to die, and that some things were hunted.

She’d only been four then, but she’d known they were talking about her.

As Father’s footsteps faded down the hall she squeezed her eyes shut, struggling to breath past the sensation of ice building in her chest and only opened them when she felt the sensation of warm fingers pressing gently against her brow.

The girl opened her eyes to stare into their reflection, a vivid emerald green, situated in the middle of a wrinkled face, so aged with time that water would have gotten lost in its grooves.

There was such warm recognition in the old woman’s eyes, such terrible tenderness, that for a moment the girl did not even realize that old woman was crying as she stroked the girl’s brow with one weathered palm.

“Scream, child”.

The girl opened up her mouth just as strong fingers wrapped cruelly around her ankle and yanked her out from beneath the bed.

20: Ohio.

*~*

_Two years earlier_

Kurt stood alone, his vision obscured by the crush of a hundred small black bodies as they rushed passed him, feathers alternately soft and harsh. He stood amongst a swarm of ravens, their wicked beaks pecking at his skin as the dark finally receded into pale light.

_Hello…can you hear me?_

He’d had this dream before. It was never exactly the same and though he always recognized its beginnings he could never stop it before it finished.

_Daddy… are you there?_

He wasn’t sure how to answer that. He was nowhere and everywhere at once. He was one with the small figure laying prone, curled in on herself, and he was also apart, watching from above seemingly with the eyes of a god. Not that it ever did him any good. If Kurt was a god here, in the world of dreams, then he was a powerless one.

They lay on a bed, shivering with bone deep cold. The mattress was so thin it might as well have not been there, hard springs digging into the girl’s stomach with each breath.

Her eyes were wet with unshed tears.

They were earth brown and green, the brilliant hazel he’d come to associate with home and Blaine.

They were staring listless at grey walls, concrete dank and dark with strange stains, so there was less to see tonight. Sometimes they sat up, watching the door, covering their ears to block out the sounds of howls and screams bouncing off the walls as lab coats passed by the small window.

Sometimes those who wore them would come for her with gloved hands and needles at the ready.

Tonight the lab coats were inside, obscured by relentless shadow as they observed the girl where she lay. Her bone thin arms were sprawled listlessly, livid scratch marks sprinkled with needle tracks decorating the pale skin not covered by the paper thin covering of a wrinkled hospital gown. Kurt could feel the sting of a wound, the fiery itch, and from above and all around her he could see on the girl’s thin arm where she was bleeding sluggishly from a small gash.

_“She’s still unresponsive.”_

_Daddy?_

_“Our investors won’t be happy. We’re no closer to figuring out how their bonds work.”_

“Kurt?”

A warm hand solid and real landed on the shoulder of Kurt Hummel, Matcă of pack Westerville and shook him awake. Kurt’s eyes flew open, searching franticly for the girl on the bed and not understanding the blurred images his eyes were sending his mind in her place.

It took him a moment to recognize where he was, and to realize that he’d never actually left the room he shared with his mate.

“Blaine?” Kurt shivered, teeth clacking with lingering chill as he gripped the hand Blaine was stroking over his brow. “W-what happened?

“You were having another nightmare,” Blaine informed him with a frown of worry. Kurt had been having them almost nightly now.

“Oh.” Kurt heaved a tired sigh. “Did I wake Beni?”

He and Blaine both glanced toward the floor at the foot of the bed where a small black furred cub lay curled in a padded puppy bed. Thankfully he slept peacefully on. Benito was still so frightened to sleep alone at night it was a chore to get the boy to sleep naturally and Blaine hated forcing him.

Sighing again Kurt eased, letting Blaine’s arms wrap around him and cuddling closer for warmth. He only wished the fear lingering in his mind could be chased away as easily as the cold.

“Was it her again?” Blaine murmured quietly and Kurt answered wordlessly.

“ _Yes. I keep dreaming about her… our child, and I keep seeing terrible things happen to her. Blaine they’re going to take her away from us…”_

Blaine lowered his head to press his cheek against Kurt’s, nuzzling gently in comfort. He realized he had begun to cry only when Blaine lifted his head to lick away the evidence of the salty trail, and Kurt huffed a watery chuckle. It was so reminiscent of how Blaine had always been there for him when he’d been Kurt’s pet, Rex that it made his heart ache. Blaine lowered his head again, this time toward the soft curve between Kurt’s neck and shoulder, and Kurt’s eyes slid closed in hazy pleasure as Blaine’s mouth settled on the sensitive skin just over his bond bite, his teeth pressing firmly and jaws closing gently in a light but nonetheless bracing bite.

He was held at the mercy of the alpha whose teeth could sink deep and tear out his throat before Kurt could do anything to stop him. It was perfect in every way, to give up control like that. To simply let the alpha hold him as his whole body went still, and everything within him went quiet and submissive, tension draining away.

“ _Never”_ Blaine swore and it was an oath that the wolf within Kurt echoed.

Never.

~*~

The woods smelled thickly of smoke and incense, a welcome respite from the days where one could smell nothing but rotting flesh and stale blood. To Kurt it seemed as if they had been burning bodies for decades, though in reality the cleanup after Westerville’s war with Balaur had only taken weeks. Still, it was weeks of hauling bodies (and parts of bodies) into piles, sorting them into enemy and friend and from friend to somebody with a name. Lists had to be made, families had to be contacted, loved ones consoled. For Blaine Anderson, Alpha of Pack Westerville, there was barely a moment to sleep. Kurt, his mate, had slept too long already as it was.

He’d been in sub-shock for eight days following the attack and upon his waking he’d been confined to strict bed-rest. Looking around now at the weary faces of the pack, gathered around the pyres for the last of the burials, he felt a flash of guilt for that. He’d mated with their leader which in turn meant that he was now their leader. He and Blaine were supposed to share that burden, but he had largely left Blaine alone over these trying weeks.

‘ _Nobody begrudges you time getting well, Kurt’_ the reassuring thoughts of his mate slipped into his head and Kurt glanced at Blaine, who stood just in front of him, firelight dancing across the smooth curve of his shoulders. On his right (where Kurt knew he was supposed to stand) stood Wes the pack Beta, and Blaine’s best friend since childhood. On their left was a wizard, who also happened to be the oldest living one alive, the one known as Merlin by myth and Ian by those who knew him.

Wes and Ian had always stood there, had a right to stand there Kurt was well aware, so it wasn’t envy that churned so hotly in his gut as he observed them. Not strictly.

It was complicated, but in the simplest terms Kurt Hummel was a wolf, and the wolf did not suffer easily others taking what belonged to it. Blaine belonged to him, and as a beta Kurt was essentially made to be an alpha’s second and the wolf was impatient.

 _“I think we both know, that isn’t necessarily true”_ Kurt replied between their thoughts, his eyes flicking toward the small cluster of men and women who had set themselves somewhat apart from the others.

At their head was alpha Harvey Strand, Headmaster of Dalton School. He had been against Kurt’s involvement with Blaine from the start and he’d done nothing so far to indicate that his position had changed.

 _‘Well, if you waited for Harvey’s approval before you took care of yourself you’d probably be dead.’_ Blaine’s dry amusement echoed across their bond like bubbling spring water and Kurt smiled. The small burden in his arms wiggled anxiously as Ian finished putting his blessing over the dead and the flames roared higher as if fueled. Kurt looked down into the blue eyes of his ward, Benito, and comforted him quietly with slow strokes of his hands across the soft skin of his back.

Benito was a cub of three, and also Blaine’s nephew. His mother Lina had befriended Kurt, a new comer to lycan life as well as the pack, and in truth without her Kurt would have likely found himself forced into a mating bond with one of Harvey’s faithful’s, a pigheaded alpha by the name of Flint who had seemed to hate the very idea of Kurt.

She’d saved him more than once, and in return Kurt had sent her to her death with the promise that he’d care for what she’d loved most. It was a poor trade, the very least Kurt could have done, and since waking he had thrown himself into the endeavor, barely sparing a thought for anything else. But perhaps it was time to change that.

As the howls began and wolf song took up Blaine turned fractionally toward Kurt and beckoned. When he’d joined the small circle Blaine had made with Wes and Ian, it was to catch the tail end of the wizard speaking at a low murmur while the pack continued their singing.

“I must depart shortly. If I leave the Guild to wonder much longer on what happened here, our enemies will see it as an opportunity. Balaur likely has already begun pleading his ignorance.”

A low growl rumbled from Blaine but it was Wes who bit out through gritted teeth, “unlikely.”

“Yes, but if we are to collect any evidence to the contrary then I must be swift and return to the Guild. I’ve tarried here as long as I can.”

Kurt did not know much about the Wizard’s guild, only that they policed and protected subhuman life which included not only wizards but vampires and lycans. But connected as he was to Blaine, everything that Blaine knew Kurt could know as soon as he looked for it. He still wasn’t used to having so much power and information at his fingertips and it took a moment of focused searching before he found what he was looking for.

“You’re going to Scotland?” he asked aloud and Ian turned to him with a small nod. “For how long?

“As long as it takes for the council to make an official ruling on the matter.” Ian replied.

“It could be months in other words,” Kurt summarized from Blaine’s thoughts, expression tightening. “Do you think that’s wise? We’re down half the guard. This is the worst time to leave.”

Ian’s mouth pressed into a thin line of disapproval, likely at the disrespect in Kurt’s tone as well as the accusation but Kurt didn’t particularly care about the wizard’s ego. Merlin or not, Kurt knew that he was right, and he didn’t like Ian’s habit of moving people around like chess pieces and not sticking around for any of the consequences of his game.

“Blaine knows what measures to take to seal the land while your numbers are regrouping. It will mean an adjustment, graduating some protégés, and taking advantage of loyal fighters who offer you their fealty…” Ian was staring pointedly at Blaine now and Blaine was largely ignoring him, though Kurt could feel the rise of tension in him. Even without having access to all of Blaine’s thoughts it wasn’t hard to guess what Ian was getting at.

Kurt glanced across the sea of bodies to where alpha wolf Nicolas Duval stood beside Jeff Sterling, his Alpha and friend Sebastian Smythe not far away. Nick and Sebastian were both clan wolves, rogues who operated outside of the Guild Council that protected and organized subhuman life. They’d been working with their enemies to take Westerville for themselves but things had become complicated when Nick had bonded with Wes’ protégé Jeff. During the attack they’d needed whatever help they could get and Blaine had accepted their vows of submission when they’d passed a test by wizard’s fire.

And when Kurt and Blaine had battled with Cooper on the serpent mounds, when magic had lit across the sky and seemed to crack the world open, Kurt had seen past their mortal bodies into something far older. He’d seen himself and Blaine, as they’d been before this life, and he’d seen the others too: _including_ their two rebels. He could understand Blaine’s dilemma on what to do with them now.

“They attacked us Merlin,” Wes growled, likely so Blaine wouldn’t have to, and the Alpha nodded his agreement.

“Their aide dealing with Cooper has earned them back their lives, but not a place in this pack,” Blaine said, his tone subdued despite the anger rolling around inside of him.

“Be that as it may, they are of the circle,” Ian insisted. “You need each other. The time of Arthur is near and you can’t afford to be scattered.”

“I don’t trust them.” Blaine responded with a note of finality and Kurt slipped his hand within Blaine’s in a show of support.

“Blaine’s right,” Kurt added, receiving a glare from Ian for his efforts. The Wizard had clearly been hoping for his support. Well he was out of luck.

“We live in the here and now, and here and now trust should be earned.”

For a long moment Ian stared between them both. The wizard had not been a fan of Blaine choosing Kurt, an untried human, as his mate and likely he was regretting it even more now. Kurt just stared back at him. Out of the corner of his eye he thought he saw Blaine’s mouth twitch. Finally Ian blinked.

“I can see that you are decided,” the wizard said resigned, and then, lowering his voice he continued, “Though I must warn you the danger to you is not yet past.”

“What do you mean?” Kurt asked, frowning, eyes flicking to Wes and Blaine who were sharing thoughts silently. Irritation flashed through Kurt before he could help it and Blaine squeezed his hand, tone apologetic as he opened the channel and their thoughts slipped into Kurt’s mind.

 _‘While most of the fallen were our own we lost some students.’_ Wes explained. _‘We’ve begun notifying the parents. Not all are taking it well.’_

 _‘Alpha O’Brennan in particular is upset that his children were put in harm’s way.’_ Blaine added and Kurt swallowed thickly, apprehension tightening his chest. The world was not a friendly place to subhumans. Those who did not wish to live as strays in the wild, hunted by sub and human kind alike, settled in neutral towns and cities and tried to etch out as close to a human life as possible while maintaining their own traditions in private; but the risks were still high enough that many lycan parents the world over chose to send their children all the way to Westerville in order to attend the school the Anderson’s had built on their land. Protected by the government and ancient magic that Kurt was only just scratching the scope of, there should have been no place safer than Dalton and yet even here Kurt had learned life could be harsh for lycan children.

What made it worse was that this was not the first time the Andersons had failed to protect the children of their allies.

“Where trust is shattered between Alphas, blood usually follows my boy,” Ian predicted gravely and Kurt shuddered.

Thinking of the parents of their students his free hand slipped from Blaine’s, settling gently upon his side, his thoughts immediately going to the life he knew was growing inside of him, and how he’d felt days before when he’d worried it had been taken from him. He could understanding wanting vengeance for that.

In Kurt’s arms Benito wriggled, the little boy’s eyes widening as anxiety began to emanate from his small form. The four adults glanced to the boy, suddenly remembering his presence.

“It’s politics,” Blaine murmured placing his hand on Kurt’s back. “We’ll sort it out. But I know a cub who is up way past his bed time.”

All the other small cubs had been left behind, carefully watched over by the den mothers, but Benito still did not like to be away from either Kurt or Blaine for more than a few minutes and Kurt hadn’t had the heart to force the issue.

Benito shook his head adamantly, his dark curls jiggling and Kurt’s mouth twitched in a grin.

“Uncle Blaine is right. Wave goodnight, because it’s back to the house for us, a bath, and then straight to bed mister. And no hiding this time.”

With the kind of devastated pouting only a child could perfect Benito waved despondently at Wes and Ian as the small family turned away from the fires. With a final nod to their companions they began the long walk back toward the house.

For a time they walked in silence, nodding to the few they met along the way. Kurt content with Blaine’s hand in his, the crunch of branch and bramble beneath their feet and Benito’s quiet humming rumbling against his chest.

It was peaceful. Perfect in its own way. Strange to think that only a week before he’d been in something like a coma, and a week before that they’d all been fighting for their lives.

It would be so easy to lose all of this.

“How mad is Alpha O’Brennan?” He asked carefully, mindful of upsetting Benito.

Blaine took his time answering, sighing deeply before he murmured his reply.

“We wrote him to tell of Calvin’s injuries. His reply was sharp...he accuses the Andersons of abuse and negligence.”

Kurt stiffened in outrage and the side of Blaine’s mouth twitched up in a half smile.

“He’s not entirely incorrect, Kurt. What my father did here can only be called abuse and-”

“And you aren’t your father Blaine.” Kurt interjected with a growl, furious at the idea that anyone would accuse Blaine of abusing or neglecting the children. “If Calvin’s father or any of the parents wanted to punish the one responsible they missed their shot. And from what I hear they did jack _shit_ when it mattered. Now they want to come after you? That’s such _bullsh-_ ”

In Kurt’s arms Benito’s mouth fell open in a shocked gasp and Blaine reached forward to gently cover the boy’s ears, merriment glinting in the hazel of his eyes and Kurt flushed. He’d been a foster parent for all of a week. So he still had some adjusting to do.

“Yes it’s bullshit,” Blaine finished with a laugh, and then letting go of Benito’s ears he added with a tug to one of the boys black curls, “But I’ve got you and Beni on my side. You wouldn’t let any of them hurt me would you?”

Benito didn’t answer, the boy hadn’t spoken since his mother’s death, but they both felt the surge of fierce protectiveness swelling in Benito’s chest. Twisting in Kurt’s hold he raised his arms curling his hands in what would have been the imitation of claws if not for the very real (not to mention sharp) ones that grew suddenly from his tiny nail beds; he bared his teeth and let out a fierce imitation of a lions roar.

For a moment all Kurt could feel was the urge to laugh and to hug Bentio tightly to him like the precious thing he was (god he’d never thought it was possible to love someone almost as fiercely as he loved Blaine but it was happening, and if he felt anywhere close to this about the child growing inside of him how the hell was he going to cope) and then he was thrown back to a night weeks ago when he’d sat with Lina and Benito watching Lion King and thinking on a future that was nothing at all like his present reality. He could never have imagined he’d lose his friend the way he had, or that he’d have pushed her to a place where it was possible. It was so damn easy to lose someone. It could happen in an instant and there was nothing you could do about it.

“I could protect you better if I was your Second,” Kurt bit out through gritted teeth, tears stinging at his eyes that he refused to shed. For some reason it was hard to meet Blaine’s eyes, his breath shuddering in his chest as he raised them in search of his mate’s understanding. Kurt was supposed to be Blaine’s everything, most importantly his partner, his Matcă, his _queen;_ a concept that rather than aggravate some silly notion of male pride, actually made something almost vicious flutter in his chest with purpose. A purpose so clear and strong he’d never experienced anything like it while human.

The wolf behind Blaine’s eyes stared back into Kurt with intensity, his irises turning a bright amber and Kurt swallowed thickly as Blaine pulled him forward to nuzzle gently at his cheek.

Kurt sighed, closing his eyes as he greedily drank in his mate’s warmth, Blaine’s scent thick in his nose, letting their bond wrap around them both like woolen blankets.

“You are everything to me Kurt. Never doubt that,” he whispered, stroking Kurt’s back and after a moment the beta nodded though it was a stiff motion. “If I had my way we’d hold your coronation tonight, protocol be dammed, but Wes earned his place and I can’t shame him by just taking it away.”

Kurt knew that logically within the pack rank was everything and that lycans (with a few ancient exceptions) were never just handed them. They had to fight for it. Blaine just couldn’t make him Beta-Major he’d have to challenge Wes for the right and win.  It didn’t make it any easier a pill to swallow, not when Kurt’s wolf knew Wes was standing where he belonged.

Pulling back Blaine nuzzled Kurt’s cheek one last time and passed a hand tenderly through Benito’s curls, the cub tucked in close to Kurt’s chest and shivering as Blaine took his body heat with him.

“Wes has always known that his role is best suited for the Alpha’s mate. It’s the natural way of things… I think he’ll be glad to finally have a chance at building a life that doesn’t revolve completely around me.” Blaine’s self-depreciating smile was deceptively casual but Kurt saw the fear he was trying to hide, the deeply laced guilt laying heavily in his core.

“He loves you, Blaine, and the pack.” Kurt reminded him gently. “I don’t think he’d have accepted the job if he didn’t.”

“Yes well, I don’t think he knew just what it would cost.” Blaine’s voice thinned and he looked away, off into the wood and Kurt knew that he was thinking of Emma. He hadn’t known her very well, as she’d been quite shy even for an omega, but she’d been kind to him and brave. She and Lina had prevented him from being raped and bonded during his heat. Lina had recovered from her injuries but Emma had gone into what lycans called subshock. Kurt now having his own personal experience with it, understood how easy it was for a sub to get lost in subspace, to stay under where pain and trauma could not reach while the body simply faded away. Subs relied heavily on their doms as anchors when in subspace but with the pack in peril Wes had been torn from her side when his presence there had been most crucial.

Blaine was right. Wes could not have known at the tender age of fifteen what he was undertaking when he’d answered Blaine’s call to arms, to retake the pack from Blaine’s tyrannical father, but he’d answered from the depth of their love for one another and Kurt had to think that given the choice at a do over he would not choose any differently. The beta male sighed. It looked as if a dominance fight was in his future. He’d been challenged once before, by the same alpha who’d tried to take him during his heat, but Blaine had been forced to kill him in order to stake his own claim before the fight could ever take place.

The fact that his very first challenge was now going to be with Wes, arguably one of the best fighters in the entire guard, was not the most encouraging. Picking up on the direction of his thoughts Blaine chuckled, leaning forward to press a quick kiss against Kurt’s brow.

“Don’t worry about it Kurt. Your main focus right now should be staying healthy and preparing for the baby. Even if you were ready to throw down with Wes he’d rather be shamed than fight you while you’re pregnant.”

Kurt wrinkled his nose, his stomach churning with discomfort. He’d never been keen on the idea of carrying. He was still too human in his mind for that he supposed, but he wouldn’t wish it away either. He’d been very shaken when he’d thought that maybe his injuries during the battle had cost him his unborn child. He’d never not wanted children… it was just the idea itself of being pregnant. Even though he’d gotten a clean bill of health from Dr. Quinn and a positive lab test, it still felt unreal at times. He didn’t feel at all ready for any of it. It was easier most days to focus on Benito, a real live breathing entity that needed his care in the here and now and not the terrifyingly abstract concept of life growing inside him.

“Do I have to?” he grumbled and Blaine laughed again.

“Yes. Alpha’s orders.”

Blaine slipped his arm around Kurt’s back again as they resumed their walk toward the house, the sounds of the forest thrumming with movement and the lingering echoes of singing following them home.

_~*~*~*~_

_Sir Bedwyr the Bran had tried to visit the isle of Avalon just after the king’s death, when his grief had been so strong it had threatened to drown him; but he had not been allowed to reach the isles shores, the waves pushing his small craft here and there and yet never forward. He’d heard that the great isle was not a place where mortal men could walk without invitation and that night it had seemed true._

_In a fit of pique he’d screamed for the lady Nimue and thrown the sword Excalibur into the murky depths of water and mist. He’d not heard a splash, but through the rolling mists he’d thought he’d seen the gleam of Excalibur’s blade; the sword laid across the arms of a statuesque woman. She’d extended it toward him like an offering, as if she’d known even then of the vow he had broken and offered him another chance. He’d not taken it, crumpling to the bottom of the boat instead to weep like a babe._

_They were all gone now. Arthur, the sire he’d known better as a King than he ever had a father, Lancelot and Gwyn, who had tried in their own way but whose secrets had kept their children at a distance._

_Bran had wanted no part of it. No part of her. No part of the legacy of misery and blood that his father had died for. But a man could not escape some things. Bran’s legacy had followed him through the years and it was not the only thing._

_The Valkyrie had found him._

_Bran had made his way back to the Uí Néill where he’d spent his youngest years, in the far north of Ireland where he could bury the name of Pendragon and never think on it again. Only he had, no matter how much drink he consumed or whatever distractions he pursued._

_He’d been at a tavern of ill-repute, following a pair of murders who had escaped king’s justice, when the Valkyrie had come, the flame in the lanterns suddenly sputtering out as the tavern doors flew open as an ill wind had blown through. The Valkyrie had struck down the other patrons like arrows, deadly and quick, their claws sinking into the vulnerable flesh and their teeth glistening sharply before they’d buried them in vulnerable throats amidst gurgled screams._

_Bran had barely had time to pull his sword before it had been knocked from his hands and a swift kick sent him crashing from his seat and onto the floor. He’d barely registered the pain jarring through his body at impact before the long thin blade of the Valkyrie’s knife was cutting into his throat as she’d stared down at him, eyes dark glittering pools as her dark braids spilled across his chest._

_He’d shivered as her two companions came to hover over them, cloaks shrouding their bodies but nothing hiding the stark beauty of their faces. It was cruel beauty, for there was nothing soft in them, and only the hunger for death in their eyes. The one that held him had skin so black he could have mistaken it for polished marble, and her eyes… they could have held all of space, captivating as a cobra’s before it struck._

_“Are you Bedwyr Pendragon?” She asked, her voice as smoky and thick as dark syrup, and another shiver ran down his spine. Though he was greatly afraid Bran gritted his teeth and shook his head._

_“I am Bran, MacMurchadha.”_

_One side of the Valkyrie’s wide mouth slanted upward and the wind picked up, blowing through the door and whipping their robes about them. With it came the flutter and flapping of wings. The shadow of two great ravens fell over them as suddenly the silent tavern resounded with their cries. Bran glanced upward past the woman’s head to watch them circle, his discomfort easing as he recognized the familiar forms of Shil and Mhian. To others they were an omen of death, but the ravens had followed Bran from birth. Where all other bonds had frayed and broken Shil and Mhian remained his constant._

_“The board is set,” he heard Mhian croak overhead and in rhythm like music followed Shil’s reply. “Now cast the die.”_

_So this was fate then? Curious. Gaze turning back to his assailant Bran shrugged and added, “but I suppose, that is one and the same. Who do I have the pleasure of speaking with?”_

_“Among my sisters I am called Fury,” she responded and Bran raised one brow at her in challenge._

_“What do others call you?”_

_“Valkyrie.” Grinning sharply she pressed her blade hard enough to draw blood, a warning to cease speaking that Bran decided it was best to heed. When he said nothing more, the Valkyrie sheathed her knife, dark eyes glittering with mirth as she stood, beckoning for him to follow. “Come. Our Mistress begs an audience.”_

_That did not bode well, for Bran knew well that the Valkyries served Lady Morgana, and as he thought on those he had loved and lost a quiet rage sparked within him anew._

_Getting to his feet with a grimace Bran growled, “And what if I should refuse?”_

_The three women paused, their backs to him where they stood, framed in the gaping door of the tavern with cloaks fluttering and blood clinging to their boots. It was Fury who answered him, the other two remaining as silent as they had entered. She turned her head and regarded him with such a startlingly deep sadness that Bran’s breath left his chest, leaving him cold._

_“Then a great many people shall die, Bran. Come.”_

~*~~*~

Kurt was pulled from sleep by a tickling sensation. He knew, even before opening his eyes that a warm nose, nuzzling against his neck was responsible. The real game was figuring out which one of his bedmates it belonged to. Stifling a grin Kurt sniffed, immediately washed in the combined scents of him and Blaine overlaid with Benito’s younger cleaner puppy smell.

Wind, grass, cotton, and soap from last night’s bath. Benito then. He knew he was correct before Blaine’s gently coaxing voice broke the silence in the room, calling his name.

“Uncle Kurt, it’s time to wake up. His Highness demands it.”

Much too close to Kurt’s ribcage for comfort Benito bounced on the bed, with an eager growl and pounced across Kurt’s chest as if her were trying to take down an antelope. Eyes flying open with a grunt, Kurt peered down to find Benito already dressed for the morning in a pair of green shorts grinning up at him, messy black curls flopping over his eyes.

“Uncle Kurt is trying to wake up but there’s a huge buffalo sitting on his chest,” Kurt greeted him with a playful smile and he laughed when Benito adamantly shook his head and roared again, indignation smarting across their bond. “Right. A lion, I forgot. Is it alright with the lion King if I get up now?”

Benito nodded agreeably and allowed himself to be lifted into Blaine’s arms. Kurt sat up slowly, stretching away sleeps stiffness as he blinked in the sunlight streaming through the windows.

“You let me sleep in again,” he admonished with a yawn, but Blaine just shrugged, leaning down to place a soft kiss on his brow.

“I did. Beni and I had breakfast with the guard and Elise just sent someone up with Finn’s breakfast.”

Kurt nodded, a slight frown pulling at his mouth as his thoughts returned to the plight of his brother.

“I’m going to go see him. Will he be alright with you this morning?” Kurt asked, gesturing toward Benito and Blaine nodded a yes.

“Good.” Kurt sighed. “Our parents are leaving today with the others… I’m not sure he’s going to take it well.”

Finn, newly converted, had just come through another stage of sickness that had confined him to bed. When Kurt had been bitten by a rouge lycan two months (he couldn’t believe it had only been two months) ago his body had gone through all sorts of strange and rapid changes that first month. He’d been sick off and on the first two weeks and then alternately ravenous and ridiculously horny the following two. Finn was thankfully past the worst of the physical illness now but Kurt knew personally that Finn still had far more adjusting to come.

He was trying to make the transition easier for Finn than it had been on himself. In some ways that had been helped by having their parents around. Burt and Carole had stayed in Westerville while Kurt was in sub shock and Finn had succumbed to the conversion sickness, Carole even haranguing Quinn to let her assist in the infirmary; but now that Kurt was back on his feet and Finn was coming around, the outside world wouldn’t wait.

Their father Burt had left his business to go searching for Kurt while Carole and Finn as far as anybody knew had been abducted during a home invasion. They needed to report to the police in order to avoid complications in their own lives.

Blaine made Kurt promise not to stress himself out (apparently it was bad for the baby) and left him to get ready for the day.

Finn was sitting upright and already digging into his second helping of breakfast when Kurt arrived at his room. He looked much better than he had the day before and Kurt shared a relieved smile with both his parents as Finn caught sight of him and whooped with delight.

“Kurt! Finally. Where have you been?”

“Blaine and I were talking. There’s still a lot we’ve got to organize,” Kurt explained, still wrestling with how to open the conversation of what to do with Finn now that he was one of them. As it turned out he didn’t have to, because he and Blaine hadn’t been the only ones discussing the future.

“Puck’s leaving today and he’s gonna escort us home.” Finn swallowed a mouthful of food practically in one gulp and hastily grabbed for a row of sausage links on the platter the service omega had left next to the bed. Burt and Carole had pulled the chairs over from the breakfast nook in order to join him and like they’d left an empty seat for Kurt.

“If you want to go back to Lima with mom and dad Finn, I won’t stop you” Kurt agreed with a sigh as he lowered himself into the chair. “But, you should really give it some time. Blaine and I can help you adjust here where it’s safe-”

Making quick work of the sausages Finn licked his fingers and eyed Kurt with a seriously dark scowl.

“Safe? Kurt people have died! I know you’ve got something going on with their chief or whatever but their _werewolves!_ ”

“Lycans. They call themselves lycans, and his name is Blaine” Kurt reminded stiffly, refusing to make eye contact though he could feel their parent’s gazes landing on him as he poured himself a glass of the orange juice and snagged a sausage before Finn could eat them all.

“You need to get out of here.” Finn continued as if Kurt hadn’t spoken and Kurt didn’t bother to reply, though he tensed. Nobody said anything for a painfully awkward amount of time, likely waiting on some response from him. Kurt just sipped his juice, and when his father cleared his throat like he was gearing to say something Kurt looked up at him.

“Kurt…” Burt hedged and Kurt set his cup back down on the bedside table.

“Yes, Dad?”

“We’ve been talking-”

“I gathered as much,” Kurt retorted and though he flinched, his father’s mouth thinned into a familiarly stubborn line.

“Blaine seems like a nice person… but you don’t really know him. You don’t really know any of these people. They’ve got dangerous enemies and I don’t like the idea of you being caught up with them.”

“Life’s dangerous Dad. And I do know Blaine.”

“A few weeks doesn’t mean you know someone, Kid, and don’t give me that tripe about life being dangerous. Not after the shit this family has just been through.”

The words stung like a slap (like bitterly swallowed truth). But it was pain that he would have to allow. Who wouldn’t resent being dragged into his new and bloody world?

“Burt,” Carole warned, laying a hand on his father’s arm but Burt didn’t look away from him and Kurt glared right back, because he did not know what other option he had and he would not apologize for choosing the way he had.

“Kurt, we understand that this is a difficult decision, and that the situation is complicated with a child coming…” Carole tried and Kurt wrenched his eyes away from his father to glare at his step-brother instead as Finn snarled in disgust.

Finn’s thoughts were loud, abrasive and unguarded with a convert’s lack of control.

_Freak. Unnatural. Get rid of it. Gotta be a cure. Find a doctor. Rip it out._

Ugly as they were they were still easier to bear than trying to decipher the hardening of his father’s expression.

“But from what you’ve told us it sounds like you’ve gone through a great deal of trauma and we just worry that you’re being pressured to change too much too quickly. Come home with us Honey. Take some time to think it through in a different environment,” his step mother pleaded.

For a moment all he could feel was guilt for the way they had suffered, for the target he’d put on their backs, and the burden they’d have to share being family of someone with his kind of enemies. When Carole laid a hand over his he flinched but he looked at her when she asked him to, searching for answers to all the questions suddenly swimming inside his head.

Should he want his old life back? Was it crazy of him to want this life and to have committed to it so quickly? It hadn’t felt quick while it was happening. The last two months had felt like they’d been dragged out of him second by bloody second, each victory and each milestone in his relationship with Blaine hard fought for.

Was it all wrong?

“They’ve totally Stockholmed you,” Finn proclaimed rudely, eyes boring disconcertingly just below Kurt’s waist as if he were staring through Kurt’s skin and into the secret dark of his body and finding it distasteful. It made Kurt’s body go even tighter with tension, the urge to warn the other wolf away with a growl still tugging at him even as Finn declared, “They’ve infected us, but there’s got to be a cure. Nothing says we’ve got to live this way.”

Finn’s words were like water to the face, focusing for the mind in one sudden revelation of truth. These people, who loved him and whom he loved in return, they wanted to take his life from him. They saw him as the victim of a tragic circumstance. Poor Kurt bitten and preyed upon by werewolves, caught up, turned around and mixed up.

They’d take this all away if they could. Spend the rest of their lives trying to resuscitate the dead.

“I’m not a victim.”

“Kurt nobody’s saying-” his father tried to interject and Kurt raised his hand and rose from his seat stiffly, all appetite lost.

“I’m not. A victim.” He repeated staunchly.

“Yes it’s true. I didn’t ask for this, but it happened. Because sometimes shit just happens that you can’t prevent or stop. You can only live through it. My god that’s all you ever taught me, Dad, so don’t you dare take it back now!” Kurt ended in a shout and Burt shouted back.

“I didn’t teach you to be a martyr! Kurt you need help. And don’t give me shit about not being a prisoner I’ve watched you with this guy. He would do or say anything to keep you here!”

“I don’t have to justify my relationship with Blaine. I’ve tried to, because I love him dad, and I want you to understand how much that means to me; but I don’t need your blessing. I know _exactly_ how far Blaine would go to keep me here. And if you’d bothered to listen at all you’d know why that tells me exactly what kind of man he is. I chose him and I dare every last blood sucking, demon spawned, creature from hell to try and take him from me!”

None of his family dared to speak, held in silence in the wake of Kurt’s seething fury- the barely bridled danger, the animal gleam in the ever brightening blue of his eye revealing the wild thing now living inside him – and gripped tightly by the dominance laying heavy in each carefully enunciated word.

“And if like _Finn,_ you think that being lycan is some sort of disease I want curing of or that my child is something I’d want _ripped out of me!”_ Finn blanched as the weight of Kurt’s fury landed on him, his mouth falling open in shock as Kurt shared thoughts he’d likely thought were private. Carole looked suitably horrorstruck by the revelation but Burt remained unreadable.

It hurt far more than he knew how to express. His father hadn’t felt such a stranger to him since he’d been a frightened pre-teen, too afraid to come out to his hero. Too afraid of disappointing the one person he was sure loved him. He wasn’t so sure of that anymore.

Kurt Hummel had died after all, and the person who had been reborn from his ashes while beautiful in his own eyes was a stranger to all of those who had known him before.

The briny taste of fear and distress in his mouth was reminiscent of his callow youth, but the steel in his core, the wild heart beating in his chest, the warmth already reaching for him across the distance between himself and Blaine, that was a newer crown to wear but he’d earned it with every moment lived.

“Then we have nothing more to share.” Kurt swallowed, releasing the tight fist he’d made of his hands and letting the tension in his jaw ease around the urge to bite and snap his teeth. He didn’t actually wish to hurt them, just to make them see. But perhaps only time would do that. “Respect my choices or don’t but here in my home you’ll respect me, my partner, and the people we call family. Now if you’ll excuse me.”

His heart was thudding painfully in his chest as he swept from the room. While he had meant every word, he was struggling to come to grips with the realization that he could no longer count on having his family at his side.

They were on separate lines now, divided by something big enough to shove a permanent wedge between them and he had no idea how to temper or change that.

Who was he supposed to be? A better son? Better brother? Better person? Someone who didn’t lose their entire world in the space of a bite and just accept it lying down.

Kurt Hummel had died and there was no bringing him back.

 _‘No he hasn’t.’_ Blaine’s truth whispered over the bond. _‘The kind, strong, utterly fierce, man that I fell in love with hasn’t gone anywhere. They’ll see it eventually.’_

Yes. God he hoped.

Because he wanted this: the feeling of surety that came with the simplest word, or gentlest touch, a deep and profound reminder every time of his place in the world and the beauty of his form. In Blaine’s heart he was wholly loved and by that love made whole (the fullest of his potential always at reach).

Kurt shut the door behind him with a snap, startling the young omega waiting just outside the door with the empty cart, ready to clean up their breakfast. Kurt recognized him. He was a teenager named Edez and he was one of the protégés on the service staff. He flushed a bright red at being caught lurking outside the door, likely having overheard the entire argument, and quickly dipped into a submissive bow.

Kurt sighed.

“It’s fine Edez. I’m sorry I startled you.”

“Matcă.” The boy muttered the title with another short bow and Kurt almost sighed again.

“Um… carry on then,” Kurt muttered awkwardly when it became apparent that the boy wasn’t going to move unless he was directed to.

That could stop any time now. Kurt was never going to be used to people bowing to him. They didn’t do that to Blaine but maybe they were just more sure of him. Omegas were usually far more tentative than alphas or betas, and he had just been throwing his dominance everywhere. He’d have to ask Blaine about it.

~*~*~

Rachel had always sorely disliked goodbyes, but this one was harder than most because she wasn’t looking forward to the journey ahead. She’d gone rogue when she’d left her pack to chase after Puck and get involved in Wersterville’s business and it was time to go home to Columbus and face the music.

What they’d done could be considered pack abandonment at the best, treason at the worst. While she doubted Alpha Shuester would give them the capital punishment their offenses might owe… it did not bode well for the future.

It wasn’t even really the pain that she feared. It was just… she had a dream. She was going to be the youngest Alpha Pack Columbus had ever had, and its first female Alpha-Major. She was going to be more than just a moon heat mistake with a big mouth and an obsession for old Barbra Streisand movies. She was going to rise above them all, make Columbus into something really special (be something special for a change).

It was a dream she could feel slipping away from her.

And if that put her into something of a bad mood, she at least wasn’t alone. Alpha Anderson and his new mate had come to see them all off and between Rachel, Puck, Santana and Kurt’s family there was not a cheerful face among them.

They got Kurt’s family situated in the car first. Rachel didn’t know what had happened between the last time she’d seen them all together ad that morning but she’d never seen a stiffer goodbye. Finn refused to look at any of them and didn’t so much as say a word to his brother. She knew it worried Puck that he wasn’t going to stay with Kurt until he got a hold on his wolf.

The anger she could smell on the newly converted wolf broiled beneath his skin. It raised the hairs on the back of Rachel’s neck. His temper kept leaking out around him and making everyone around him nervous. Rachel would have been more comfortable getting into a car with a disrupted hive of bees.

After Kurt’s stepmother had plied a promise from Kurt to be careful and to take care of himself she’d followed Finn into the car, leaving Burt and Kurt to say their goodbyes. The two had stared off with one another, the strain between them so thick Rachel could feel it under her skin, pulling taught at her nerves.

“So this is it, then?” Burt had grunted after a long moment and Kurt had nodded stiffly.

“I said everything I had to say.”

“I figured,” Burt had allowed. “Doesn’t make it any easier to leave, kid.”

And Kurt had bristled, the indignation of the wolf bright in his eyes and he’d snapped, “I’m not a child dad.”

“Yeah. I got that too. It doesn’t change a thing. You’ll always be my kid.”

And Rachel could not only see the shock on Kurt’s face as his father had pulled him tightly to his chest in the fiercest of hugs, she could feel it burst outward like a splash. His joyful surprise sprinkling like rain across her senses and pebbling her flesh as if her skin had been caressed by the softest of touches, and then the feeling faded as he once again contained his emotions.

She’d watched with the others, silent and respectful, as father and son embraced and pretended that her keen ears could not pick up on their whispered parting words.

“Your mom and I will be back when we get things figured out. If you need anything before then, absolutely anything, Kurt, you let me know okay? I love you. No matter what.”

When Burt had finally let Kurt go to join the rest of his family in the car he’d looked right at Alpha Anderson and in his eyes had been the darkest of promises. Rachel had grown up in what some lycans liked to call a tame pack and others liked to classify as civilized. It meant she’d been reared amongst humans, taught to live like them as best she could and to blend in with their society as best she could. She’d known enough of them to know that few of them were born with the fortitude that wolves revered, the sleeping spirit of the wolf that once woken, completed their broken halves to form a nobler whole.

For this reason it was said the ly-kindred were rare, and that Alphas had a sacred duty to protect and preserve the nobility of their race by only bonding with the worthy. But perhaps worthiness was all a matter of perception. Because Burt Hummel’s eyes, human or not, had been filled with giants that did not sleep and they promised nothing but vengeance should Alpha Anderson harm what was his.

It was a warning that Blaine accepted with respect, giving Kurt’s father a silent nod and likely gifting him with some private parting before the human male had turned away to join Finn and Carole in the car. He was no fool after all.

Noah said goodbye to Kurt first and Rachel could only sigh in resignation as Kurt extracted a promise from him to look after Finn (as if the both of them hadn’t already done enough and didn’t have their own problems to deal with) but she reminded herself that Noah and Finn were friends and that he probably would have done so anyway without Kurt asking.

“Please give this letter to your Alpha, and thank him on my behalf,” Blaine was saying now as he extended an envelope toward Puck, who took it with a slight grimace. Rachel was not the only one not looking forward to having to explain themselves to Alpha Shue. No doubt Blaine had sung their praises in his letter but Rachel doubted it would make much difference to William Shuester, who above all liked the appearance of his control.

Blaine seemed to know it because as he shook Puck’s hand he pulled the other Alpha closer and reminded him intently, “You always have a place here Puck. If you want it.”

Tension coiled through Rachel and she bit her lip, glancing quickly away from their moment of intimacy. It didn’t include her and truth be told it made something hot and jealous swirl darkly in her belly.

Puck had always admired Blaine and the way the Westerville wolves lived. He was always saying he wanted to run with real wolves. Well now he could she supposed. At least one of them would get their dreams.

“We can’t thank you enough,” Kurt spoke up and Rachel glanced up startled to find Blaine’s mate staring at her with something inscrutable in his expression but too close to pity for her liking. She looked away as he finished with, “We won’t forget what you’ve done for us.”

“We weren’t given much choice” Santana, standing off to the side, scoffed loudly and Rachel winced.

“We’ve all seen what you can do now, haven’t we Blaine?” the woman sneered, crossing her arms across her chest defensively as if she were the one being attacked. “Who’s going to risk pissing off the guy who can literally _rip_ their heart out without touching them?”

Despite the tightness of his expression Blaine’s lips twisted into something not quite a smile, it was a little too self-mocking to be a genuine smile, and replied, “apparently you. But you have a right to be angry with me. Even still, I hope you know you can always come back here.”

Santana tore her eyes away with a scowl, and when Rachel realized it was because they were glimmering with unshed tears, her heart filled with sadness.

“And when you find Brittany,” Blaine shocked them all by adding and Santana’s breath wasn’t the only one caught in her throat as they waited to hear what he was going to say next. “Let her know she can too… tell her that I’m sorry.”

Rachel for once had nothing to say. She could only stand there gaping in shock unable to believe she’d understood Blaine correctly. Had the Alpha of the most powerful pack in their world just said that a _vampire_ had an open invitation through his doors? Had he discussed this with his Second?  She certainly hoped not, as she was counting on Wes to knock some sense into him.

She bit her lip to stifle her tongue (she’d found her words it seemed) and huffed in exasperation, eyeing Kurt Hummel suspiciously. He looked altogether too proud of his mate just then and this sounded like the kind of senseless human sentiment that she adored in movies, but had no place in pack politics.

Rachel appreciated the fact that Brittany seemed like a nice person and had helped them quite a bit with the whole messy affair with her coven but she was still first and foremost a vampire! Their oldest and most dangerous enemy! A daughter of the very coven that had set out to destroy Blaine (and whom it had to be said would have succeeded if not for the grand luck that Blaine’s brother had gone soft for an old flame).

It was a long moment before Santana answered.  When she did she slowly uncrossed her arms, but her eyes were no less hard.

“Tell her yourself.”

And with a pointed flick of dark hair the she-wolf turned on her heel and sauntered toward the car.

 

~*~*~

_Morgana had never braced cold like the cold in Caledonia. Sath, the tiny village of her birth, was in the Summer Country where the sun was known to linger. It hardly ever snowed there, as the sea brought warmer winds from the south to keep the weather mild._

_She’d known winter in Avalon with Nimue but the cold had never bitten at her skin quite like it did out here in the world of mortal men. The snow in the forest had sometimes not bothered her at all she remembered, as there had been times when she had not even bothered with shoes as she’d played among the trees. She’d been in her fifth summer when the Merlin had come to take her away to the lake. She’d been in the garden, picking roots for the Innkeepers wife when a shadow had passed over her. She’d shivered, glancing up to see one of the ravens that frequented the garden land on the fence post above her head. It had told her when she was very young that its name was Shil._

_Shil had opened its beak to shriek at her with a violent flap of wings before flying away as suddenly as the bird had landed. If she had only known then how her life had changed, flown away from her carried on the wings of that raven down some path that she could not predict, she might have hesitated longer at the idea of leaving with a stranger to venture into the unknown._

_But as it was, Morgana had never had a real place in Sath. The villagers were glad to be rid of her and if her mother had felt any sorrow at their parting she had not shown it. Morgana and Merlin had traveled south into Brittany, and throughout the journey he had told her tales of the mystical isle where they were headed, a place beyond the touch of mortal men and where magic was older than time._

_Had Morgana known the day that she’d set out with Lancelot to save his Briton King how it would lead to the cold bars of a cage, would she have altered her course?_

_There had been no time to say goodbye to Nimue swept up as she was in Lancelot’s peril. He had journeyed long and far for the chance to save the life of his King. A fool’s journey anyone would have said, but his love for his king had beat upon her like a physical force and her love for him had weakened her strength of will._

_They had traveled farther north than Morgana had ever even thought to travel, Lancelot pressing them forward through rain, wind, and shine, until they had reached the place where King Arthur and his men were camped in the Celidon wood with a legion of the Roman Emperors men.  Morgana was not ignorant of the movements of Rome, despite her sheltered life in Avalon. Staring into the well and watching the passings of kings and empires had been a corner stone of her education, for Nimue always said one could not have wisdom without knowledge._

_Rome crawled over the land like a bloated spider, feasting on the smaller kingdoms that got caught in its web. Arthur King of the Britons was a young ruler but a hearty warrior. To hear Lancelot tell it there was little his king could not achieve. It seemed Arthur had a deft hand at winning the hearts and minds of warriors of the highest creed. Rome utilized their little king well, pushing him and the men sworn to serve his interests into the wilds of the Pictlands to lay claim to what was not theirs, just as they’d once done to the Britons themselves._

_It was a level of foolishness that Morgana found hard to swallow, especially seeing first-hand how little the Romans actually cared for the land they hoped to consume._

_Since she and Lancelot had left the lake the ache for home had been sharp and deep within Morgana’s chest. She did not like the realm of men, with their harsh weather and even harsher souls. That ache had eased a fraction however when they’d crossed into the Celidon wood. The pulse of magic beneath her feet and the voices of the medbs of old whispering on the wind had been a sweet comfort. The veil between this world and home was so thin, she felt as if she only had to push it aside and she’d be back in her bedroom in the tower with the sound of Nimue’s soft steps coming up the spiraling stairs to greet her._

_Tears pricked Morgana’s eyes and she dashed them away, blinking away her gloom to take stock once more of her surroundings. She and her companions were in a steel cage, the type the Romans used to transport prisoners, and yet she doubted their captors owed any allegiance to the empire. They were in the middle of a camp, different and yet strikingly similar to the camp of the Britons._

_Well, if you’d seen one war camp, Morgana supposed, you’d seen them all._

_When she and Lancelot had arrived in Arthur’s camp she’d gone immediately to see to his fallen king and she’d known even before she’d touched the pale sweating figure writhing on the furs that what ailed him was magical in cause and would only be cured with such._

_“He has been cursed,” she’d delivered the news sadly to Lancelot and the knights gathered around their king. “An old magic. Nearly as old as the land we’re standing on. Someone wishes to spit your king out of the mouth of Caledonia and they are willing to drag his soul down to the hands of Hel to do it.”_

_There had been much cursing and wailing after that. One of the knights, a Sir Kay, had called her a witch and accused her of working with their enemy. If not for Lancelot he likely would have run her through with his blade just to have something to bury his pain in. Though she would never call such a man a friend she had seen his heart. Dragons did not love easily, but Kay loved Arthur quite deeply. All of them did._

_She’d wondered what it was about this boy king (for he was still so much a boy it was frightening to consider the blood upon his hands) that could inspire such loyalty. No one had ever loved Morgana in such a way. Nimue cared for her, but Nimue would never leave the lake to follow her into the icy north as these men had followed their king. Lancelot loved her much as a sister, and yet he had left her all those years ago. Her mother had given her to the Merlin and had not seemed sad to see her go._

_To be loved as greatly as Arthur Pendragon was loved was precious. It should be fought for._

_Curse her for a fool but she was impulsive! Nimue had always warned her that she’d regret decisions made in the heat of passion. How else could she explain the mad notion to speak to the King of the Picts? She didn’t know who had cast the curse on Arthur, only that they were deeply tied to Caledonia and that in itself pointed towards the Picts._

_She’d thought that if the King of the Picts could not be made to rescind the curse that she could at least learn how it had been cast. If she knew by what means the curse had been put upon Arthur she could perhaps reverse it._

_Lancelot along with the foul tempered Kay had agreed to accompany her and it had ended predictably in their ambush and capture. The ambush had been sudden but she had received just enough warning from the ravens (appearing suddenly above them in the trees to shriek a warning) to catch a glimpse of wild eyes and painted skin before something heavy and blunt had struck her unconscious._

_The Picts had set up a small city of tents in the wood much as Arthur and his men had, and just as they had been in the Briton camp, men were milling about seeing to their weapons and the preparations of battles to come. There were women too seeing to the washing and cooking and Morgana gaped as several small children ran close to the bars of her cage, shrieking in delighted horror when the green of her eyes landed on them._

_The biggest difference was in the way they looked. Though they were outfitted in similar armor to the Britons they warred with, the Pictish warriors left a fair amount of skin visible where they could. As if to show off with pride the colorful ink that stained their bodies in bold designs._

_Morgana’s eyes widened in wonder as she recognized the script of medbs. She’d not seen the old runes anywhere else but the halls of Nimue’s castle._

_That warrior banging his axe back into a sharp edge was encrypted with the symbols for fire and iron, and both elements were there to be glimpsed in the dark shade of his eyes. The man who sat near him, polishing the round edge of a shield, had the words for strength and valor etched upon him in languid strokes. The fingers that had placed them there had touched with love so visible it had become art. That child hanging on her mother’s naked hip was painted in the words for life and peace, a mother’s prayer written like living promise sitting upon a throne of skin and bone._

_Morgana sat silently, letting their simple beauty awe her. It was the right of beautiful things to inspire reverence._

_Beside her on the floor of the cage Lancelot groaned, his eyes blinking open as he woke. Morgana shifted, helping him to sit up with a painful sounding grunt. His face was streaked with blood from a wound on his brow, though thankfully the flow of blood had stopped._

_“I see we found the Picts,” he grumbled, staring grimly out the bars of the cage._

_“Is that how it went?” Morgana murmured with a small laugh. “I could have sworn that they found us.”_

_~*~_

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And we're off to the races! This chapter was called Let It Go because Kurt needed to have an Elsa moment. Who am I kidding the whole fic is just a grand Elsa moment. That and Fight Song on repeat. Not that I'd have it any other way but it gives me a giggle late at night. :) I hope you enjoyed!
> 
> Just so you know I decided I had enough written of the first three chapters of this story to start posting. With a full work schedule among other personal pursuits it does take me some time to write these days but I'm proud of this series and do want to see if I can get it to completion. I'm hoping that like last time the feedback will keep me going. You guys know how important you are on those days when a writer would rather do anything but sit down and try and get past that block? The answer is somewhere between essential and hella lol. You make this whole endeavor so worth it. So when you can let me know what you thought, and as always stay blessed.  
> -Meg


	2. Starting right now I'll be strong.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kurt's decision to let go of the past and take control of his future is all well and good but the first step is dealing with the present. He's still not super keen on having a kid growing inside him but he's warming up to the idea of having a kid. Kids really. Because there's Benito to think about, and the rest of the pack. Who would have thought that this whole ruling a small kingdom gig was a lot like being a parent (a hundred times over).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to those who left sweet notes on the first chapter. You are gems and you give this story life. I hope you enjoy this next segment.
> 
>   
> _Losing friends and chasing sleep  
>  Everybody's worried about me  
> In too deep, they say I'm in too deep  
> (In too deep)  
> It's been two years. I miss my home  
> but there's a fire burning in my bones  
> I still believe,   
> Yeah I still believe  
> In all those things I didn't say  
> the wrecking balls inside my brain  
> I will scream them loud tonight  
> Can you hear my voice this time?_  
> -Fight Song, by Rachel Platten

On Lycan Gestation

_The gestation period in carriers [pregnant lycan male and female] takes anywhere from 180-220 days [7 months by Roman calendar]. This is a two month difference from their human counterparts, and is perhaps symbolically reflective of their lupine neighbors [wolves average 7 weeks]._

_Carriers are typically the submissive partner in a mated pair with few exceptions [see alpha/alpha pairings]. CeraX [see submissive hormones] increases during heat. In abundance it triggers the lycan body to prepare for procreation [see breeding heat]._

_For this reason alphas while not physically incapable, will likely never produce enough CeraX to begin the process of procreation unless acted upon by an outside force. A few alpha/alpha pairs have found success with submersion techniques [see heat sync]._

_Weeks 1-2: Begin with fertilization. During this period most mated pairs are hopefully waiting for signs of fertilization in the sub. In the first few weeks some spotting may occur in females and males who retain carrying genitalia._

_A full “flush” occurs for those who have not conceived. In some cases [typically female carriers] the body rids itself of tissue and the unfertilized egg, similar to a human female’s menstrual cycle._

_Some males revert outwardly to their non-carrying genitalia, rearranging unused tissue and cells through the natural process of shifting._

_This can confuse many male carriers as some males do fertilize and still revert outwardly [although the uterus is protected inside.] Why this occurs? Need more data._

_Weeks 3-4: Early in this stage pregnancy can be confirmed through standard blood labs and urine tests, however most lycans prefer natural methods. Natural indicators are more subvert. Many mated pairs will seek out their regions Obstrica: a celebrated figure who performs the duties of a midwife. From what I’ve gathered the Obstrica is a respected office always filled by an omega [It is the only known seat of authority given to omegas in lycan society]._

_The Obstrica is supposed to be capable of smelling the urine and identify a pregnant lycan, but more research is needed before this can be relied on as anything more than myth._

_As the days progress the senses in the carrier will sharpen. Common complaints are acute sense of smell, ringing in ears, and sensitivity to textures._

_Feeding and nesting instincts kick in, often manifesting in an increase in food consumption and a desire to close off their sleeping areas from outside intrusion as well as to fill it with soft materials. While this is likely a biological urge left over from living in the wild, for lycans living in civilization it can become impractical._

_Dominant partners should be understanding and aware of the swift changes in their partner’s mood. Some carriers become anxious when separated from their dominant mate and experience hostility towards others who come too close._

_*Note.  In the fourth week the infant’s heart begins to beat for the first time. The scent of the carrying lycan will change to reflect the presence of new blood inside them though it is not always immediately detectable. It will grow stronger as the child inside the carrier grows._

_-From the Journals for Dr. Quinn Fabray. MD._

_~*~_

Kurt was late that morning getting to the infirmary for his appointment with Quinn and this time it hadn’t even been his fault. He’d not been putting it off before. Not exactly. What with everything going on with the cleanup and Finn’s conversion sickness there had been plenty of reason for him to delay his consultation. Blaine kept hinting at it (asking when he planned to visit Quinn, or if he’d thought any about how he’d like to set up their den) but whenever Kurt tried to focus on any of the practicalities of being knocked up, his brain wanted to break and he found it suddenly much harder to breathe.

But Quinn had cornered him at dinner the night before and demanded his presence the following morning in front of everyone and it had left him no choice. Headmaster Strand had practically accused him of _trying_ to harm the Alpha’s child. Kurt grit his teeth, remembering Harvey’s challenging stare and the nervousness that had rippled over the guard-wolves gathered at table.

He didn’t know which was more insulting, the insinuation that he’d willfully harm himself or the insinuation that his unborn child belonged to _Blaine’s._ Like Kurt had no part in its conception and no business with it beyond ushering it into life.

He’d only agreed because he _had_ been avoiding the issue, and he _wasn’t_ actively trying to endanger the baby. He wanted her to be healthy (he did). He just would rather skip the whole nine months of body torture bit.

Kurt had been quicker to wake that morning as his sleep had been uninterrupted the night before by nightmares.

He’d felt weird at first, apprehensive for reasons he couldn’t explain. He was unable to make sense of the signals his senses were sending him. His skin had felt weird and his nose kept twitching like he’d gotten dust in it.

He’d even thought for a brief moment that he’d heard a watch ticking somewhere under the covers, a barely discernable _‘tock tock tock’_ tickling his ears, but after he’d made a fool of himself tossing all of the covers aside to find (of course) no hidden wrist watch he’d been forced to accept that he needed a few more nights of uninterrupted sleep.

He’d then woken Benito with the intention of getting him dressed, fed, and dropped off with Blaine, but Kurt hadn’t been the only one to wake up on the wrong side of the bed that morning.

First he’d refused to eat, then he’d decided he didn’t want to wear clothes that day; which Kurt supposed was fairly normal for a lycan cub, but being a great lover of them himself it had almost pained him to let the boy run around stark naked all day.

He’d again tried to compromise (a pair of shorts, or just a t-shirt even) but Benito had shaken his head and tried to shred whatever Kurt attempted to put on him. It was only threat of taking away his Lion King DVD privileges that saved the child from being dropped on his head (because Kurt had been just about frustrated enough to do it).

Benito had sulked all the way down to the dining hall where they’d met Blaine who had just finished the morning meeting with the guard; so Kurt had already been running late when he’d run into a pair of familiar faces exiting the infirmary on his way in.

“Kurt! I was wondering when we’d see you here!” A cheerful voice exclaimed, grabbing his arm as he’d passed. It belonged to a rosy cheeked omega in her middle forties, blond haired, with blue eyes that honest to god twinkled with mischief. Even though he’d only met her once Kurt recognized her right away. Mindy Kheil had the same bubbling energy as her son Chandler who was a protégé in the guard and one of Kurt’s first and best friends in the pack.

She was accompanied by two males, who were both younger somewhere between her and Kurt’s own age. One was completely unfamiliar but Kurt had met the younger looking one Nathan (and his mate) briefly, after the MacTere wolves had attacked Westerville.

Nathan’s mate John had fought with Kurt and the guard to help protect Lina’s home and he’d met Nathan when he’d come across them both at the safe house the following day. Normally a refuge for subs in heat the safe house was currently playing host to many of the families who had been forced to leave there homes after the attack.

“Mindy, Nathan, it’s good to see you,” Kurt smiled warmly at them both.

Nathan grinned broadly and dipped into a bow, calling him sir, and their male companion mirrored the motion (somewhat less awkwardly as he did not have the same baby bulge as Nathan) with a beguiling pink flush on his cheeks.

Mindy either forgot to or didn’t care to, which seemed to shock her companions as they gave her scandalized glances. Mindy waved her hand as if she could wave away any and all notions of propriety with the motion.

“I’m four months pregnant. I’m not bowing to anyone. I’d tip over. And Kurt doesn’t mind. Do you Kurt? No of course not. Have you met Nathan and Derrick, Kurt?”

 “Not at all.” Kurt laughed, comforted by the woman’s familiar stream of chatter (so reminiscent of his young friend) and relieved more than anything that someone other than Blaine still seemed willing to ignore his new status. “And Nathan and I have met, but I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure of meeting Derrick.”

Kurt offered Derrick a smile and something sweet began tickling at his nose as the omega male blushed again. It made him want to step closer to Derrick for some reason that he couldn’t fathom, ask him if he needed anything, make sure he was fed (he looked thin, too thin, there had to be food around) until it suddenly clicked that even though he wasn’t obviously showing like the other two, that Derrick was likely carrying as well. Though Kurt did find it strange that his pheromones were strong enough to bring out Kurt’s dominant side.

Derrick’s smell was making him want to run and fetch a pile of blankets and force the man to sit (because he looked cold and it was too chilly in this room for him to be standing there catching a cold).

Mindy grinned gleefully with a knowing look.

“Derrick’s mate Amanda was injured during all that hullabaloo with the leaches. You know what they say, when the alpha is away the body compensates. Overly so in poor Derrick’s case. He’s tripping over knot headed alphas trying to be helpful. Aren’t you dear?”

Derrick flushed again (this time in embarrassment). Kurt blinked, mulling over what Mindy had said because something about the name of Derrick’s mate was bugging him.

“Amanda Martin,” he blurted suddenly, realizing where he’d heard their names before. Derrick and Amanda Martin. Lina, what seemed a lifetime ago, had shared the gossip with him that the Martin’s were hoping to start a family and that Amanda was going to try and push her mate Derrick into a breeding heat. Apparently they’d had some success.

“Yes…that’s her.” Derrick replied, looking confused until Kurt asked after her wellbeing.

“She’s better Sir, eager to be off bed rest. Vampire wounds are slow to heal.”

“You’d think they’d be less eager to throw themselves under their claws then. My poor John has scars all down his front. They’re healing but nowhere near as fast as he’d like.” Nathen commiserated with a sigh.

“Is that why he’s been moaning about you leaving him for a prettier alpha?” Mindy asked with a gleeful cackle and Nathan, fighting a smile, nodded and murmured, “I’m afraid sometimes his vanity gets the best of him.”

“Really, Kurt, if we’re honest you’ll never meet a sillier or vainer creature than an alpha wolf when all is said and done. Unless it’s a Beta named Chandler Khiel.” Mindy added, deadpan, and Kurt laughed.

 “How is Chandler?” Kurt asked. “I haven’t seen much of him this week.”

“Well you know, Blaine’s been keeping him and the Sterling boy pretty busy down at the caves helping with the food rations. That and he’s obsessed with the notion of passing his majority trials. We’ve all said to give it time but you know Chandler. He wants to be an adult today and properly bonded and bit by his alpha yesterday.” Mindy laughed and Kurt and the others joined in her amusement, the warm flow of fondness that thinking of the teenager brought ebbing between them.

He understood Chandler’s eagerness to be an official adult within the pack, and if you asked him the teen had already done more than his fair share to prove that he was ready to handle adulthood.

“Will we see you down at the caves anytime soon, Kurt?” Derrick interrupted his thoughts to ask with a tentatively hopeful expression. He hesitated briefly over Kurt’s name as if he feared a rebuke and Kurt smiled encouragingly at him, relieved that the omega male appeared to be relaxing in his presence.

“Maybe.” He hedged. “Truthfully I’ve been so caught up here I hadn’t thought about it. Would that be…okay?”

“Child you’re the Matcă.” Mindy admonished. “Nobody would say so but they’re all curious about you.  And I know you and Blaine haven’t officially announced it, but everyone knows –”

“Because _she_ won’t shut up about it,” Derrick interjected gesturing toward Mindy who ignored him.

“- and Laura Dugen is gagging to know when you’ll start choosing your denmaids. The silly twit was bragging the other day about all the healthy cubs she’s delivered. As if the ability to pop out a pup makes up for being a heinous bitch.”

“Mindy!” Nathan scolded but didn’t appear overly shocked. Mindy scoffed.

“She is. Whatever you do child don’t let her Alpha bribe you. They’ll all try, soon as you announce it, mark my words. Everyone will want in your den, but Laura Dugen is about as fun to have around as a rattlesnake in your bed. The damn snake is probably safer. I thought she was going to tear out my jugular when I reminded her that my child is going to be in the same litter as the first Alpha child.”

Kurt swallowed thickly as he stared at the three omegas, unsure of what to say in response. Bribes? Denmaids? Litters? He wasn’t even sure what any of that meant (though Blaine had not slacked in his efforts to bring it all up, Kurt had just been avoiding it) and frankly he’d rather never have to know or deal with any of it.

Nathan, who Kurt was beginning to think was some sort of saint in another life, took pity on him.

“It would be very nice, Kurt, if you came down to the caves. And perhaps to the safe house as well if you’ve any spare time? It’s just been rather hard for everyone being so displaced…wondering when they’ll be allowed to return to their homes. It would lift a lot of spirits I think.”

It was a boggling notion. To think that a visit from him could lift anyone’s spirits after what the families of Westerville had lost last month.

Kurt had worried before that he wasn’t doing enough to help Blaine with his responsibilities, and to show the wolves of Westerville that he understood what being Matcă to Blaine’s Alpha meant, and that he took it seriously. It left a sour taste in his mouth to realize that he’d been right. While he was up here in the manor being coddled in luxury the pack families were still squatting in cells and caves. While Kurt understood why Blaine wanted him to rest he knew now that he couldn’t afford to. No doubt Wes had been with them every day, doing the things that by rights Kurt should be doing.

He’d wanted this. And Blaine had made it pretty clear that if he was going to be more than just the Alpha’s mate in name he’d have to be wolf enough to take it.

“Alright then. I’ll be down this afternoon.” Kurt decided with a smile. And if there was something a bit shark toothed about it Mindy at least seemed to understand, because the omega woman grinned right back with pride beaming in her eyes.

~*~*~

The guard had returned from another hunt. Rabbits to skin this time but Rowen didn’t mind. He liked the taste of rabbit and didn’t mind skinning. If the boy were healthier he’d let him chew it properly, but no matter. A nice stew was good for the heart.

Lots of hunting parties these days what with the entire pack now living off the wood and unable to go into town. It was chaotic. It reminded Rowen too much of the days when Blaine’s father had been Alpha. That had been the last time the pack had closed its borders to the outside. Nobody in and nobody out without the Alpha’s permission. Children had cried in the night then too. Hungry bellies and hearts full of fear. Rowen, as grounds keeper of Dalton School had seen it all. Front row seat.

The pantry at the school was quickly emptying and there wasn’t enough game in the forest to sustain them all.

Rowen eyed the sleeping boy on the rug by the fireplace with a speculative frown. One more mouth to feed. Something was wrong with him too. He was skinny and sick. He made the whole cottage reek of it.

He knew he ought to tell the Alpha about him but the boy was a stray, and considering what the MacTere had done, Rowen knew the Alpha would have little choice but to sentence him to death. He didn’t like the MacTere… but it just didn’t sit right with him killing someone so young for following their Alpha into battle.

Boy had his whole life ahead of him. If he ever got over this illness that was.

He would or he wouldn’t. Either way Rowen’s mama used to tell him there wasn’t much use in worry.

Whistling to himself he went back to skinning the rabbit.

 

~*~*~

_It is said that when the maiden Morgana and her companions were dragged and tossed before the booted feet of Bridei MacMaelchon King of the Picts that Namet, the King’s master of arms had urged Bridei to take their heads and send them back to Ceaser. The maiden Morgana had been very surprised by the sight of him for she’d expected a king like the ones she’d seen within Lady Nimue’s well, a king like Uther or an Emperor like the mighty Ceaser._

_Bridei MacMaelchon King of the Picts was not a tall man but his presence had a way of making itself known. He was a fox in a nest of fowl, canny and quick with the kind of abandonment that only a man without fear of rebuke could embrace, and like the fox his hair was almost as red as Sir Kay’s._

_When he spoke it was with a voice surprisingly deep- as if his voice had been rooted not within the shallow chest of a mere man but in the earth itself._

_He stayed the vengeful hand of Namet and asked Morgana in the old tongue if she spoke it and when she replied in kind that she did… well it was said that Bridei King of the Picts had smiled upon her that day and called her sister._

_“There are few living who remember the old ways,” he’d told her later when she was alone with him in his tent._

_Lancelot had been loath to allow the king a private audience with her but Morgana reminded him of his own king’s plight and scolded that a silly thing like virtue should not prevent her from finishing what they’d set out to accomplish._

_“It is not just your virtue I fear for, but your life.” Lancelot had hissed, glaring balefully at Namet as the warrior had approached their cage to fetch her and the Picti warrior had glared right back. “These Pict men are savages. Do you think I’d hand a maid to this wild man without a fight?”_

_“Let him have her,” Kay had sneered. “She seems eager enough to bed the dog. Though I beg you, while he is between those lily white thighs to be of some use and slip a dagger between his ribs.”_

_Lancelot had taken umbrage to that, ready to fight Kay then and there like they were two fools in a tavern brawl, but Morgana had neither understood it nor had any patience for it. It was no concern of Sir Kay’s whether she bedded this king or the next and no insult to her to do it._

_She was a daughter of the earth wind and sky, her body the beginning of the world. She had no reason to fear it. But King Bridei, if he were wise, had plenty of reason to fear her._

_He seemed wiser than dear Lancelot, who still saw too much of the little girl he’d known in her. He watched her speculatively from across the furs as he sipped from a bowl of wine. After a time he offered it to her with a hint of challenge and Morgana only hesitated long enough to arch a brow before she placed her lips to the edge of the bowl, wet where Bridei’s lips had clung only moments before, and took a deep swallow._

_The wine was bitter and hot in her throat, stinging as it slithered down to her belly and sent blood rushing to her head. Her skin tingled, sensitive to the shifting curtain between their world and the other. She grinned in delight and he laughed._

_“So it is true. You have the Spirit.”_

_Morgana wrinkled her nose and scoffed. Nimue had taught her the names and purposes of all the old gods but in truth Morgana had always been more concerned with developing her own powers and the goings on in the here and now than she had been with the past._

_The Goddess: Maiden, Mother, Crone. The God: Father, Son, Spirit. One being or two, three, or even six, who knew? Deities that split themselves in trinities to usher along the endless cycle of creation and death._

_It sounded to her like a lonely existence. She knew it was._

_“Perhaps the spirit has me,” she muttered and Bridei considered her thoughtfully._

_“You are not happy?”_

_“I had a dream once.” She confessed in reply, tongue loose with the amber wine. “I looked into the well and saw the Crone. She told me that I would be like her. That in my youth I would send empires crashing to dust and from their ashes build a new world. That I would have the love of Kings and be called Goddess by men with fearful tongues.”_

_“And would that please you, to have the love of a King?” Bridei had asked her, placing his hands over hers, halting the return of the bowl to her lips._

_In his eyes there was a flame._

_He pulled the bowl toward him to take his sip from the opposite edge._

_“It would please me to be free,” the maid Morgana told the king of the Picts that day, an answering flame burning within her chest._

_“Is there any greater freedom than in the love of another? It is only by love, that a man can know the best and worst of himself.”_

_“Love is illusion. Our paths are set, our lives taken and given not by our own hands.” The maid rebutted with the taste of bitterness on her tongue. “What is the worst of you King Bridei? Would you take a man’s soul? Bind it to the hand of Hel to keep your own illusion of freedom?”_

_For a time the king did not answer. He sipped from the bowl, hands still pressed firmly over hers. Morgana did not mind it._

_Then Bridei slowly lowered the bowl, finally sated. He stroked the inside of her wrists with war roughened fingers. His honey colored eyes hazy with drink and the embers of desire._

_“I would do that and more for my people. Be warned. Whatever else we might share together that is not negotiable.”_

_“Are we negotiating?”_

_“Some would even call it courting.”_

_Morgana laughed, eyes widening with surprise as something close to joy began to grow within her. Bridei laughed with her and she warmed further at the sound. It was a good sound, like wind groaning through trees or waves slapping upon shore was a good sound._

_“Is that so? And what is to be exchanged in this grand courtship? My freedom in exchange for a right to my flesh?”_

_“Your freedom for my love.”_

_“With that, I would have both freedom and the love of a beautiful King. And what will you take?” Morgana teased. “I hardly think I should take it all. Not exactly a fair negotiation.”_

_“I have often heard that love is the unfairest of negotiations. But if you insist,” Bridei grinned, lowering his eyes for the briefest of moments, a play at shyness though she already knew the man possessed none of it._

_“Perhaps you would be good enough to love me in return?”_

_“My teacher used to tell me that love not freely given comes at the highest price of all.”_

_“And what would be your price, Lady Morgana?”_

_Morgana’s heart thudded in her chest. She had never been called a Lady before. Had never even dreamed of it._

_“The life of a king. For you are a man who says he loves his people, and I see in your heart that you believe this to be true.”_

_“And yet?” Bridei asked, the heat of desire beginning to cool in his eyes as the accusation behind her words sank in. “You doubt me?”_

_“I doubt you understand the enemy you seek to slay so mercilessly. He is loved by his people, as are you, but his are a legion.”_

_“Arthur is but a boy,” Bridei scoffed._

_“A boy you’d rather curse than meet openly on the field of battle.”_

_Bridei gritted his teeth but said nothing in reply and Morgana pressed on._

_“You fear him.”_

_“I fear a cage, milady. With a Roman emperor holding its keys.”_

_“And you have all but sealed its doors! I have seen a great darkness overcoming this land, a beast swallowing up your house and the houses of all your descendants. It is vengeance for this cowardly deed. Rome will retaliate and they will overwhelm you.” Morgana predicted gravely._

_In truth she had seen no such thing, but Bridei could not know that. It was imperative that he did not for she had nothing but his love to bargain with (and it was not his love for her). She kept her breathing even and her stare even more level as he peered into her eyes in search of the truth._

_“You have drank the amber wine with me. Seen the Spirit alive within me. You know that I can see through the folds of time. Do you doubt me?” She dared, and Bridei swallowed thickly, eyes continuing to burn into hers but she could see the wheel of thought turning within his mind._

_“Have you not heard what they say of Arthur? They say he honors the lives of all men. They say wherever he goes that fortune and peace follow and that he clothes the poor and feeds the hungry,” she plied sweetly. “There will come a day when you are in need of a friend Bridei. Arthur will be that friend.”_

_For a long tense moment the maid and the king stared into one another until finally Bridei King of the Picts lowered his gaze and yielded._

_“Curse you woman” he muttered darkly as Morgana reached silently again for the bowl of wine._

_The maid sipped from it triumphantly with a satisfied smile, content to admire the beautiful sight that Bridei made opposite her._

_Strong, well-muscled limbs were gorgeously painted in vivid green and yellow markings. Every last inch of skin inscribed with the words for land and loyalty._

_What strange, brave creatures these Picts were, to wear their hearts on their skin._

_~*~*~_

Kurt had been waiting for Quinn in the private exam room longer than expected. It should have been nice siting on the table in the exam room with the hustle and bustle of the infirmary just outside the door; but Kurt had already had his fill of being on the outside looking in as far as the pack was concerned and he was literally itching to prove himself.

Where the hell was she?

He scratched both arms idly and huffed with impatience, clamping down on the urge to get up and go.

 _‘A few minutes more isn’t going to make much difference’_ he scolded that part of him that was all impatient snapping and relentless pacing. Still when he heard the sound of hurried footsteps approaching he perked up in anticipation, hoping it wasn’t just Quinn’s assistant Rajeesh come to check on him again.

It was, but when he was quickly followed by Quinn who shut the door behind them with an apologetic grimace he breathed a sigh of relief.

“I’m so sorry Kurt. I got a message from the school. Beth’s acting up again.”

Kurt instantly felt bad for being so impatient because this whole thing with parenting might be new to him but he already had a healthy appreciation for how hard it was (and the scratches to prove it).

“Benito’s been having a hard time too. It’s normal right?” He asked, desperate for the reassurance that he wasn’t in fact doing everything wrong. “I mean after everything they saw. This is just a side effect?”

Quinn nodded with a subdued expression, something heavy shifting in her eyes that looked surprisngly like guilt.

“Their sanctuary was invaded. They watched the people they depend on and trust to take care of them become fallible. They learned, far too young, just how dangerous their world is and how easy it is to lose everything,” she murmured in agreement and Kurt swallowed thickly, wincing in pain.

He was at fault for that. Perhaps not as directly as he was in Benito’s case, it was still true that the only reason they’d even had to invite the vampires in the first place was because he’d gone crazy his first full moon and attacked one of them.

“They’ll heal Kurt. It’s one of the benefits of youth,” Quinn reassured him gently, the weight of guilt gone now from her gaze. Kurt wondered what Quinn had to feel guilty for. But she didn’t let him wonder on it for long because she was smiling with forced cheer and descending on him with a stethoscope.

“Now. No more stalling Mr. Hummel, let’s see how you’re doing.”

Rajeesh who had sat down at the computer to take notes, caught Kurt’s eye from behind Quinn’s back grinned at Kurt’s slightly terrified expression.

“What are you hoping to hear?” Kurt asked nervously as the cold end of the stethoscope pressed against his abdomen.  It was still flat to Kurt’s eye.

“A heart beat” Quinn answered. “And that’s a negative Raj.”

“A heartbeat!” Kurt panicked, in no way prepared for the kid to already have a heartbeat. “I’m only three or four weeks…give or take. That’s what you said!”

Kurt knew he’d said something wrong when Quinn gave him the stink eye. It was only confirmed when Rajeesh over in the corner chuckled.

“Uh-oh, someone didn’t do the reading.”

When Quinn had given them the positive test results she’d also given him several journals full of her personal as well as medical observations regarding Lycan pregnancies. Despite the fact that she could have sold the information contained within those journals for millions of dollars within the scientific community Kurt had been loath to so much as crack the cover. He’d made it to the word ‘gestation’ before he’d decided to come back to it later.

“Sorry” he apologized lamely and she sighed.

“Do the reading Kurt.” She reprimanded, though far gentler than he deserved. “You’re putting yourself at risk when you choose not to be informed. It isn’t smart.”

“I know. Honestly I’ve been… a coward I guess.” He forced himself to admit. “Too afraid to do the things I know I have to because it means there truly is no going back.”

And that was the crazy part. Kurt didn’t even want to go back. He understood how crazy it must look to his family and those who had known him before he’d come to Westerville, but the truth was he’d been changing long before then.

It had started during that illusively defined transition from his boyhood into the wild wilderness of his adult self; when he had discovered that the gladiators ring he’d been thrust into in high school really did ‘never end’ and while dreams might have been his life’s blood, they were things easily deferred. Surviving had become his sole purpose, one focused clinical day at a time.

The little victories, his job at the theater, his nice home, his fiancé, enough to sustain his life but not to help a weary spirit as it struggled to win the greater fight: to thrive.

Blaine had come upon him like a happening. His arrival in Kurt’s life the event that had shaken his world and sent Kurt spinning in a new direction. Not of his choosing at first but still worthy. It had still captured his heart (woken it from ten years of sleep) and filled it with new blood. He could do more and be more than he’d let himself believe in a great while.

Was it so wrong to want that?

Clenching his fingers into a fist Kurt decided he didn’t care whether it was or wasn’t (because it was right for him). He wasn’t going to be afraid anymore.

Clearing his throat Kurt took the first step toward claiming the future he wanted.

“How long can I still fight, before it’s too dangerous for the baby?”

Quinn’s hand paused on his belly, the doctor going still for a moment but not immediately answering him as if bracing herself. Rajeesh laughed nervously, as if he thought that Kurt had attempted a joke that had fallen flat.

“You won’t have to do any fighting Sir, Blaine and the rest of the guard will see to your wellbeing. Truthfully there isn’t anyone in the pack who wouldn’t do all that they could to protect the Alpha’s mate and his heir... what is it you think you’ll have to fight?”

“You want to challenge Wes.” Quinn didn’t so much guess as state and Kurt nodded in affirmation. Over by the computer Rajeesh’s face furrowed in a confused frown.

“Well of course… but I don’t understand. You mean you want to challenge Wes _now_?”

“Not right this second,” Kurt allowed, steeling himself for what he could already see was going to be a fight. “But he’s got years of practice on me. Years of experience.”

“Yes. Which is why you shouldn’t worry about it until further-” Rajeesh began to say but Kurt had to stop him.

“Until when? Nine months from now when I’ve got a child to worry about? When she’s old enough to be left with a sitter? What if I’m pregnant again?” Kurt licked his dry lips, inwardly wincing at the thought of having to go through this whole process again. But he was an adult. He knew babies happened, planed or not. Clearly.

“I want to practice while I still can. I’ll pick it up again after the baby is born.”

“Forgive me Sir, but no one, and I mean no one, is going to agree to so much as look at you the wrong way while you’re carrying the Alpha’s child.” Raj gaped at him incredulously and Kurt gritted his teeth in mounting irritation. Why was it always the Alpha’s baby? It was in his damn body, taking over his life, keeping him from sleep at night with strange horrifying dreams. Shouldn’t it be his baby too? At least half the time. God.

Rajeesh must have seen something in Kurt’s expression because he was far more hesitant when he practically squeaked, “I’m sorry Matcă but I don’t think the Alpha would allow it.”

As Kurt’s eyes narrowed Quinn sighed, muttering something beneath her breath that Kurt ignored because he was stuck on the idea that Blaine was the one who got to tell him what he could or couldn’t do with his own body.

“Look, I don’t want to just sit around waiting for the right time. Before I know it years will have gone by and… I know where that goes.”

All too well.                                                                                                                                   

“And just so we’re clear on this point, my being pregnant doesn’t erase my free will. Blaine trusts me to know myself and my own limitations and I’m _telling_ you how this is going to go. I’m going to practice. Because I am, before the year is out, _going_ to challenge Wes Montgomery and win.”

It was quiet in the room as both the human doctor and the omega nurse stared at him with mixed expressions. Rajeesh did not look as if he could decide whether he was stunned, horrified, or impressed. Quinn did not look surprised but she looked far from approving. Turning to the omega nurse she asked for a moment alone, leaving Kurt with a mild sense of alarm.

When her assistant had departed Quinn didn’t turn to speak to him, rather she began rifling in the drawers near the sink and preparing to take what Kurt presumed (judging by the tubes and needles) would be a blood sample. When she turned back to him a moment later, all business, he knew that she was resigned.

“You’re going to be miserable. Mood swings, exhaustion, nausea, headaches and vomiting are just some of the few symptoms carriers typically experience after four weeks and if you’re increasing your physical activity instead of resting Kurt it’s only going to exaggerate them.”

“I know…” he began but he faltered at Quinn’s baleful expression.

“You and I come from a world where none of this is even possible. That material I gave you is, as far as we know, the _only_ documented research on lycan pregnancy available in the world; and it was done by a doctor who was just out of residency before she got herself knocked up by a man she didn’t really know and landed in the same position you are- so forgive me for saying this, but you don’t know.”

Kurt gritted his teeth and swallowed. What could he say to that? She was right. He winced as the needle pierced his arm, high near his shoulder and began to draw blood.

“I’d like to think we’re friends, Kurt, but I’m your doctor first. It’s my job to keep you healthy but you have to do your part. Which means listening to me.” Her voice was gentler now but no less firm. “You listen when I tell you to pull back, you follow the guidelines I give you, and we won’t have any problems. Sound like a deal?”

“Deal,” he agreed with sincerity. Relief flooded through him, because he didn’t know how he’d make it through this and do the things he knew he had to do without her support.

“Your vitals all look good, but I want to make sure you’re getting the right nutrients. What with your body reverting back to male sexual organs and your ordeal last month we need to consider you high risk.” Quinn murmured as she finished labeling a test tube full of dark blood. A shiver of nerves went down Kurt’s spine.

“I thought you said that was normal.”

“It’s not uncommon but it’s far from being statistically normal. Not that there are any statistics on file besides my own; but from what I’ve observed, eight out of ten male carriers retain female sexual organs both inwardly and outwardly from the time of conception until birth.”

“And the other two?” he demanded to know because he could already feel he wasn’t going to like the answer.

“Well when they’re healthy and haven’t been stabbed with voodoo daggers?” Quinn quirked an eyebrow meaningfully at him. “Around week ten they shift once more to the form best suited for birth and all shifting stops until the deed is done.”

“And if not?”

“Well then the baby has nowhere to go and someone would have to remove it.”

His stomach lurched.

“You mean like a C-section?” he sounded thin and breathy but he didn’t even care because the image that had come to mind was so grisly it made him want to be sick.

“In your case. I’m the only lycan doctor in the world Kurt. What Blaine allows me to do here is unprecedented. I’ll give you whatever you decide you need but if Blaine or the community feels that I’ve _encouraged_ you to not take care of yourself, I might not be allowed to help you. More importantly it could jeopardize my place here.”

There was something pleading in Quinn’s expression now which Kurt did not need her to vocalize to understand. She was human, like he’d once been, and only allowed to live and practice here on Blaine’s mercy.

He was good that way Blaine, sympathetic to a young mother’s plight and forward thinking enough to recognize Quinn’s value to the community. But it was nevertheless by his grace.

Kurt needed to be careful, not just for the sake of his health but for Quinn’s sake, and her daughter’s, and the sake of all of those who stood to benefit from her care. As much as he wanted to blithely ignore the rules of convention he’d cause more harm than good.

He nodded slowly, mind still racing with calculating thoughts. While he understood the way things were he still thought they could do with change. Change in the pack started and ended with its Alpha-pair.

Well then. It looked as if he and Blaine had some talking to do.

 

~*~**~*~

 

“Come on Noelle! Don’t let him-ooh!”

Blaine winced along with Sugar Motta as he and the protégé watched her alpha-master take a serious hit from Nick Duval.

Sitting on top the fence, held securely by one of Blaine’s arms, Benito watched the match with wide eyes, feet kicking as if he longed to leap into the pen and join the bigger wolves. Blaine smiled, remembering being that age. Sitting just so with Allie as he watched his older brothers practice with the guard. He’d wanted to be just like them back then. Somedays he’d give anything now to go back to being a child, held by surer arms.

Blaine still did not trust the MacTere wolves and very much doubted any amount of time would change that but he was in the hard position of being stretched too thin, needing able bodied fighters, and not trusting Nick and Sebastian out of his sight.

So they’d been placed under Wes’ watch (the beta had insisted on it) and otherwise ordered to practice that afternoon with the inner guard. It was the first time since the vampire attack that the guard had held a regular practice session, busy as they had been with the cleanup after the attack.

Even now they were spread all over the forest. Wes was absent along with Jeff organizing the hunt for that evenings meal.

They’d have to talk about that. The school was dangerously close to running through its stores now that they’d been forced to tap into the pantry to feed the families in the forest. They’d not been prepared for an emergency evacuation on this scale and that was poor planning on his part.

“Cheater!” Sugar screeched far too close to his ear, effectively dragging Blaine back to the moment, just in time to watch Duval wrestle the dark coated she-wolf into submission with a gleefully viscous snarl to the boos and furious shouts of the others.

Nick shifted as he ran back to Sebastian waiting on the other side of the practice pen, at a distance from the rest of the inner guard who had drawn clear lines between themselves and their newest additions. Both Alpha males had smugness written all over their faces as they pretended to ignore the building tension around them. They had good reason to look smug. Sebastian had beaten his fist two challengers and Nick had just beaten his second and was about to tap Sebastian back in.

Never let it be said the MacTere didn’t know how to fight, even if it was the dirty kind.

Noelle limped back towards their side of the pen panting for breath.

 _‘They’re damn good Blaine, I’ll give them that. And they don’t give you an inch.’_ She said with a groan as she lowered her belly tiredly into the ground, her protégé jumping up to bring her a bucket of water. She aimed a murderous glare at Nick and Sebastian as she all but slammed the bucket down, sloshing at least half of the bucket over poor Noelle’s paws.

“Dirty fighters is what they are,” Mitchell scoffed with a growl in the direction of the pair. “Who goes for the eyes during practice? There’s no honor in it.”

“Did you expect them to fight with honor?” Adam asked with a sardonic lift of one blond brow. “They have a point to prove as much as we do.”

“And what, pray tell is that?” Noelle asked in a dry exhausted tone. She’d shifted now, so that her dark skin gleamed under the sun, the worst of her injuries repaired during the change.

“Their way is better than ours? Anything we can do they can do better?” Adam offered with a small shrug and beside him Chandler sneered.

“Hah! We can do anything better than _them_.”

Adam’s gaze caught Blaine’s for a portion of a second and for a moment both alpha’s struggled not to laugh. When Chandler puffed up like an irritated bird and ranted, “They weren’t so tough when Kurt and was kicking their asses! We should get Kurt out here. Show them whose boss again.”

Well they completely lost the battle.

~*~

“What the hell are they laughing about?” Nick grumbled and Sebastian’s eyes flicked to the other side of the pen where their adversaries, who had a minute ago been seething, were now apparently having a grand time of it. Laughing and ribbing each other with such obvious comradery that it was enough to curdle the stomach.

God. Pack dogs.

“Who cares,” Sebastian griped, reaching down to grasp the bucket they’d been given for water. Nick had already taken his fill and Sebastian was still panting after his last round in the ring. He’d say this of Blaine’s guard. They didn’t go down easy.

Nick eyed him out of the side of his eye as Sebastian drank. It was unnerving as all get out. Sebastian didn’t make a habit of making close friends, out of sheer necessity. Bonds were powerful things but also a weakness if you were just going to bond with anything and everything with a heartbeat. He chose his bonds carefully and wisely.

Or at least he’d thought he did. Nick had been one of his oldest friends, but that hadn’t stopped him from betraying Sebastian the first pretty piece of ass to catch his eye.

“So how long are you planning on staying mad at me?” Nick asked baldly and Sebastian jerked, sloshing the water in the bucket. “Because if we’re not going to address the fact that apparently we were all friends in a past life. We can at least try and repair the friendship you and I had in this one.”

“Do whatever the fuck you want Nick. I told you. I’m only staying here until something better comes along,” he groused, slamming the bucket down. Nick just nodded sagely, unphased by Sebastian’s show of temper, a knowing look in his brown eyes.

“Right. Because we’ve got so many options. We can’t go back to the clan as failures-”

“Or traitors in your case.” Sebastian snapped and Nick’s expression hardened into a familiar meanness that meant he was about to lash out.

“Or whipped cunts in yours! I didn’t bend for Hummel. That was you remember?!”

Sebastian jerked toward him, teeth bared and body itching for the change, but aborted the motion at the last moment, mindful of the pack dogs just across the pen- who judging by the sudden quiet, were now watching them closely.

“Fuck you, Duval,” he hissed instead.

“Kind of taken now Bash, sorry.” Nick’s lips twisted into a wry smile and it was so damn familiar, so Nick, that against his will (and Sebastian would have willfully carried his anger to his damn grave, let me tell you) he felt the tension draining from him. Bonds. You had to choose them wisely.

Nick grabbed Sebastian by the back of the neck and pulled him in close, enveloping him in the scent that had been the only representation of familiarity he’d had over the years as they skipped from place to place and never found home. He pressed their brows together, nuzzling roughly in a demand for affection that Sebastian for all that he wanted to remain aloof, could not deny. He returned it with a peevish grunt and tried to ignore the sense of rightness singing through his viens.

Sebastian fought everybody, but oddly enough he and Nick rarely did.

The truth was, he’d betrayed the clan too. The moment he’d started making deals with Anderson in exchange for Nick’s continued wellbeing. Useless Hummel had gotten his measure twice. Twice! All because he cared about this infuriating asshole.

“You’re an asshole,” Sebastian was sure to remind him and Nick barked a laugh.

“And you’re a bastard. Don’t fuck this up,” Nick warned. “We’ve got a chance now. Our whole lives have been about avenging the slights on our fathers. I’m tired Bash, aren’t you? I mean what did it get us?”

Here. Which was to say, a fat lot of nothing.

Nick as always seemed to read his mind.

“We got lucky. If we keep our heads down and act like good little boys, in a year or so, once Jeff’s passed his majority, we can strike out on our own. Start something new-” he began to prattle and Sebastian stopped him with a quietly spoken no.

“What?” Nick sputtered and Sebastian looked up at him.

“No,” he said, firmer this time. He’d still been debating. Considering, because it was a huge undertaking and the ramifications of failure were equally as devastating as his last mission (and look how spectacularly that had turned out). But Calvin had made it clear that part of his deal was Sebastian making nice with Blaine and if that meant integrating, well so be it.

Alpha O’Brennan had to be canny to keep the title in his family for as long as he had and someone clever wasn’t about to throw away everything he’d built on the whims of his beta son and a disgraced clan boy with nothing to his name but his tail between his legs. Sebastian needed clout.

Pack Westerville was limping and when the pack was in need, those who stepped up climbed the ranks. Just look at Blaine. Prime example. He’d not even passed his majority trial when he’d wrested the crown off his father’s head. 

Crisis created opportunity and this was an opportunity to path the way to the future he’d always dreamed of. The kind of life he’d always deserved. He’d have it. He’d die before he gave up.

“Shit, Bash, I know that look. You’re plotting. I fucking hate when you plot.”

“Don’t get your tail in a twist. We’re staying. Like you said, it’s a new beginning.” Sebastian grinned at Nick’s bewildered expression and clapped him on the back.

“Besides. You really haven’t been listening if you think Jeff Sterling is going to leave his pack to run off with you. In any damn life.”

“He will! He chose me” Nick insisted with all the grace of a tantruming cub and Sebastian threw back his head and laughed, good humor finally returned. Having a purpose put him in a much better mood.

“All that means is that you better polish those tags because you are now a whipped, and I do mean whipped, dog. Welcome to pack life Nicky.”

 

*~*~*

Cubs and lycan social structure

As discussed previously, submissive heat cycles naturally sync when living in close proximity to one another. This is most reflective in an influx of cubs born within months of each other, followed by a lull before the next influx. The timing appears to relate closely with the cycle of the moon and changing of the seasons [resulting in more spring litters than fall litters] but more data is needed.

A litter in the lycan community can reference all the children of a particular household, but most typically reflects all the children born a particular cycle. These children, born of the same littler, are reared together within the community to encourage the formation of life long bonds, continued pack loyalty, and to better socialize them.

Parenting in the lycan community is for this reason a social exercise. There are many examples of pack members eagerly anticipating the birth of each child and supporting expecting parents with gifts, labor, and community funds. It is the understanding that the community supports the needs of each litter because they are the continued life and growth of the pack. While the biological parents will always take precedent, children seem to benefit most when given access to many adult influences.

It is highly recommended that carriers attain early confirmation of expectancy as the ritual formation of a den has proved essential to their physical and psychological health: keeping them calmer, healthier and more relaxed. Risk for miscarriages due to fetal bond shock [see notes] increase by forty percent in carriers without den support and ninety percent in carriers with absent mates.

The den varies in look, size, and number of occupants based on the situation of the parents and there is some indication that social ranking also plays a hand.

In the wild dens are typically constructed in a warm secluded area [such as dirt or rock caves]. In areas also populated by humans a nursery suite in the expecting parent’s home takes the place of a traditional den.

The carrier feels most at peace when secluded within the den, surrounded by their mate and chosen denmaids. The pack can be less anxious of their vulnerable carriers and precious young coming to harm and it is strategically easier to defend them from outside harm.

As lycan society has shifted and changed, so too has the role of the denmaid. Traditionally denmaids are there to assist with any of the carriers needs and see to their protection, especially during times when the dominant mate needs to hunt or be away from the den. Denmaids are traditionally omegas though some have been betas and alphas.

After the birth of the child the denmaid becomes a denmother. They will assist the parents in nursing and rearing of the child during its most formative years, not unlike a Nanny; though in the lycan community to be a denmother has far more social value than the other.

The secondary parent [or parents in some cultural variations] is chosen when the child is old enough to begin earning a place in the pack hierarchy [see alpha-masters]. It is the job of that secondary parent to teach them some form of trade, impress upon them social responsibility, and prepare them for adulthood. This is an intimate form of apprenticeship that is highly anticipated in the young, though it can be a difficult transition as it requires leaving their den. Not all are blessed to remain in contact with their denmothers and primary parents when they become protégés so there is a great deal of trust exchanged by all parties.

Between the ages of sixteen and twenty depending on readiness a protégé will undertake a series of challenges or tests [determined by their elders] called a majority trial. Should they pass, they enter the world of adulthood, full of brand new options. They must choose whether they want to stay within their community or explore the world outside of pack structure [see going rogue]. They can now also take mates of their own and start their own dens, continuing what is undoubtedly an effective and harmonious cycle.

-From the journal of Dr. Quinn Fabray MD.

~*~~*~~*~

Kurt rubbed his eyes tiredly, setting the leather bound journal down upon the desk to glance at the empty bed basket at the foot of the bed where Benito slept. He’d realized of course, how hard it must have been for Lina making her way to Westerville. Alone. Pregnant. Her mate for all intents and purposes dead.

He’d never realized what she’d been up against. What she’d been missing out on by lacking a pack. How easily she and Benito could have met their deaths long before Kurt ever had a chance to know them. And it was easier to see now the marks of her isolation and how very strong she’d had to be to survive at all.

To think she’d made her way all the way to Westerville, just to have to throw herself on the mercy of her people’s enemy; someone who could easily and happily have destroyed her if he ever found out the truth of who she was.

Even though Blaine’s own nature and his natural response to Benito’s kin scent had pushed him to be kind she’d never been able to let her guard down. Lina’s den had been empty. Her home had been a private sanctuary for her and Benito, and Kurt had never thought it odd before not knowing much about how lycan children were raised but he’d never seen Lina go a step without Benito at her side.

Knowing now what had been haunting her, perhaps that wasn’t so hard to understand. Perhaps she’d never really trusted enough to let someone that close, to give someone else responsibility for the most precious thing in her life. Until him.

Kurt shuddered. It had not escaped his notice either, that since becoming Benito’s surrogate parent that the pack had remained at a distance. No one seemed as eager to support him and Blaine in their endeavor to raise Benito as they already were for the unborn child who was still little more than a hope. God knows what with everything they were about to undertake they could use a denmaid or two.

While he hoped it was only because they were used to Lina keeping them at a distance when it came to Benito, he was not naïve. They’d all suffered losses. They all knew now the truth about Cooper and while he and Blaine had tried to contain things people talked and sometimes lack of detail was worse.

People feared what they couldn’t classify. He was a child now but he wouldn’t always be. One day he’d be pushing for rank and trying to court a suitable mate just like everybody else and he was already on the outside looking in. No den. No litter mates. Was he even all lycan?

This was going to catch up to them. In a bad way.

He was going to have to be very careful in choosing who he allowed into their home, who he trusted enough to love both Benito and their daughter equally. He hoped finding such a person wasn’t going to be as hard as he feared.

The sounds of bath time were drifting in from the partially open bathroom door compete with splashes, laughter and playful roars.

Blaine had volunteered to take over after dinner to give Kurt time to make good on his promise to start going through the material that Quinn had given him. Despite the long day he’d had Blaine had actually seemed eager, probably relieved that Kurt had come around to doing it on his own without a need for intervention. Smiling slightly he leaned back in his chair and contemplated the room around him.

He’d noticed its size the first time he’d woken up there, but he’d been in such a panic then that he’d never stopped to consider just how huge it was, or why it would need a door to adjoining it to the two adjacent rooms.

They were small doors, discreetly tucked into opposite walls and nowhere near as eye catching as the opulently carved door to the bathroom. While not exactly hidden they clearly tried to provide the illusion of privacy.

He’d not wondered on it too much. Anderson manor was in truth a mansion and it was huge. There were empty rooms all over the house that didn’t see much use, but that the staff kept in good condition as if expecting that any minute now there would be a need.

He thought he was beginning to understand it now.

Once upon a time there had been an Alpha family here. The Alpha’s wing had been a den for Tanya and Julian Anderson. There had been children and denmother’s to fill these rooms. Once Westerville had been a beacon of hope for the lycan world. Dignitaries from packs across the world would have come. From every race and creed, from the richest to the poorest, and from the tamest to the wildest.

They had come to secure a place for their children to grow in safety and this house had been full of life. He could see it in Blaine’s mind. Hazy memories of a golden age already dwindling in his earliest years. The Matcă’s death had cut the pack open and it had hemorrhaged, spilling blood until someone had been brave enough to sear the wound closed.

But it had never fully healed. It was still waiting.

It had a new Alpha. And now, yes, a new Alpha-pair.

But it still needed purpose.

Spending the afternoon with Mindy and the others had opened his eyes to a lot of things. Blaine had not been as forthcoming as he could have been with the information regarding their rapidly dwindling food supply. They were going to starve themselves out of the forest before long if they didn’t open their borders again, but given how they’d exited the city of Westerville the Mayor was unlikely to lift the warrant out for the lycan’s suspected in last month’s massacre at the local college. Which as far as the city was concerned was _every_ lycan.

And even if he did, they were down too many fighting men to risk another fight if the other Alpha families did decide to bring one to their doorstep. What they needed was food and to regain the goodwill of their allies in short order.

Kurt had an idea, but he doubted Blaine was going to like it. Not at first. He’d probably like it better though than his idea to return to the practice field.

He felt the tiniest bit bad for him, but it had been Blaine who predicted all along that Kurt was not going to be the most submissive of mates. So Kurt didn’t feel that bad. Not really. This was what needed to be done. He knew that in his gut.

At that moment a blur of naked skin and curls came streaking from the bathroom trailing a sodden and exasperated looking Blaine.

Familiar now with this routine Kurt laughed as Benito went diving toward the door leading to the hall and snatched him up by the waist.

The boy kicked and scratched, whining like, well like a wolf cub if Kurt were honest.

“Hey, no no. It’s time for bed.”

The boy’s adamant protest was both a screamed emotion across the bond and a violent bite to the arm closest to his mouth. Kurt hissed letting go on instinct, just thinking it was lucky Benito’s teeth were still coming in when Blaine seemed to snap, grabbing the boy by the arm. Not violently but definitely with more frustration than Kurt had ever seen him handle Benito before.

“Beni Stop that!” Blaine snapped with a dominance ringing in his tone and the boy froze, terror welling up in his eyes. “Get in bed! I won’t tell you again.”

Benito rushed to his bed and buried himself within the blankets, whimpering and sniffling, and Kurt’s heart ached. He bit his lip so that the things he wanted to snap wouldn’t spill out.

He was just a kid. He’d just lost his mother. What didn’t Blaine get about that?

But of course Blaine got it. It wasn’t like Blaine to be so short tempered. But he had a lot of demands on his plate and now he was tired wet on top of it. His exhaustion was so loud over the bond it was practically talking.

“Are you alright Kurt?”

“I’m fine Blaine.”

To Blaine’s credit all Kurt seemed to need to say was his name I that plaintive way. He deflated a bit, eyes watching Benito’s trembling frame with remorse for a moment before he sighed and approached the basket at the food of the bed containing the sniffling cub.

“Hey Beni? I’m sorry I snapped.” Blaine apologized, kneeling so that he wasn’t towering over the boy. “I’m tired but that’s not your fault. Forgive me?”

Blaine had not quite finished before Benito had thrown himself into Blaine’s arms, clinging tightly and shuddering against his chest.

“Don’t go. Don’t.” They were shocked to hear the boy’s tiny voice mumble tearfully.  “Don’t wanna sleep.”

Kurt and Blaine stared at each other at a loss for words, floored by Benito’s sudden decision to speak. And it was to tell them not to go, and that he didn’t want to sleep.

Of course he didn’t.

If a stranger had put Kurt to sleep, only for him to wake up and learn his mother was just gone… he didn’t know if he’d have ever slept willingly again.

“I’m not going anywhere,” Blaine promised, voice thick with emotion as he hugged Benito tight.

“Don’t.” The boy agreed, hugging his uncle equally tight. Padding over to the pair Kurt laid a hand gently on top both their heads, something possessive swelling within him as his fingers sank between similar dark curls.

“Alright boys, I for one need a cuddle. And I demand my cuddles in my nice big bed so let’s hop to it.”

Blaine smiled gratefully up at him as he stood with Benito within his arms.

“No sleep.” The boy insisted petulantly burrowing closer to Blaine’s chest.

“Yep.” Kurt agreed easily as the three got situated in the big bed. “Just cuddles. And a lullaby. I need lullabies so I demand those too.”

“What should we sing?” Blaine mused as Benito wriggled into place between then.

“Your pick Beni.”

The boy’s brow furrowed with concentration, blue eyes still bright from the passing of tears but focused now as he began to slowly mouth over a difficult word.

“Sog…sogniamo… un mondo…. senza più violenza” Benito sang softly in what Kurt could only assume was Italian. The words seemed a bit big for him still, but they were clearly familiar ones, a much loved tune sung with the ease of beloved memory. And it did not take Kurt long to realize that the reason his own eyes were stinging and his heart growing so heavy was because the words and the tune were familiar to him to.

He cleared his throat and joined in with the bits he knew in English. After a few bars Blaine seemed to recognize it as well and that did not surprise Kurt at all.

Their voices joined together in the quiet of the night, singing softly, lulled to sleep by the pleasant memories Blaine filled their heads with like dancing pictures.

Blaine and his brothers lounging in a puppy pile, laughing along with the television as a young woman bravely defended King Arthur and earned her knighthood.

And for a time the world was safe, and nothing could harm them.

_I pray we’ll find your light_

_And hold it in our hearts._

_When stars go out each night._

_When we lose our way._

_Lead us to a place, guide us with your grace_

_Give us faith so we’ll be safe._

  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next up: Mike Tina and Brittany run off to see the sept sisters and run into a familiar face. We learn Kurt's plan to solve the hunger problem in Westerville and find out that he's exactly right, Blaine doesn't like it. But he likes even less the thought of letting Kurt back into the practice ring. So yeah, it turns out juggling a new mate, new life, new kid (and another on the way) all at once can put a lot of stress on a relationship (who knew). But Kurt's confident they can handle this. Lycan's mate for life right? So the laws of nature practically dictate they're going to be fine. Okay. Maybe they should compromise. Compromise is good.


	3. Into the light of the dark black night.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which an order is given and ignored. Kurt and Blaine take a step back and then a giant leap forward in terms of trust but is Kurt jeopardizing all of that with his plans to get challenge ready? Maybe, but perhaps that's just the price you pay when you're desperately trying to take a throne. Harvey is not about that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Blackbird singing in the dead of night  
> Take these broken wings and learn to fly  
> All your life.  
> You were only waiting for this moment to arise  
> Blackbird singing in the dead of night  
> take these sunken eyes and learn to see  
> All your life  
> you were only waiting for this moment to be free.  
> ~Blackbird, by the Beatles

Without a doubt Blaine Anderson was tired. If one were to categorize it he supposed there had been times in his life that had been worse, times where exhaustion had plagued him so thoroughly that every step had been dogged by a bone deep ache. Exhaustion so deep that it could rob you of your next thought. On a scale of ‘running for your life from everyone you used to trust whilst trying to win a territory war with nothing but a dozen or so scraggly teenage wolves to call your guard’ to ‘too much to do and too few hours in the day to do it all’ he’d take the latter any day.

Nevertheless, tired was what he was. And as such he was in no way prepared to engage another day, but that morning his senses pulled him from sleep with insistence. His nerve endings kept tingling as the sensation of something soft and warm pressing against his skin knocked against his metaphorical door as good as any wake up call.

It was a nice sensation. One that combined with the familiar scent of his mate made his toes and fingers curl. Blaine took a deep breath, allowing Kurt’s scent to fill his nose and mouth, rolling over his senses like a wave. The base was warm and musky, like cedarwood, and it always settled somewhere deep in his gut like a warm cider but it was that finishing note that he liked best. That bit of sweet and faintly floral, as if Kurt had rolled around in a bed of French lavender after a rainfall.

He still remembered the first time he’d ever smelled that unique combination. Amidst the refuse and misery of that cursed pet rescue it had been an oasis, a luxury almost too refined to bear. Here in the warmth of his bed with the sensation of Kurt’s lips pressing languidly against his skin, it was almost the same.

Blaine was smiling as his lashes fluttered open, still somewhat bleary with sleep to find Kurt’s eyes, their bright morning grey, staring down at him fondly, lips quirked in a beguiling little smile.

“You awake, Sleeping Beauty?”

“I might require another kiss” Blaine rasped, and Kurt’s smile widened before his mouth descended to cover Blaine’s.

And here’s the thing. Kurt might have in all ways, to Blaine at least, appeared perfect but he was not exempt from a lack of morning breath any more than Blaine himself was; but none of it mattered. Blaine would have happily kissed him into oblivion, until there was nothing left of them both but memories and bone dust.

Kurt’s mouth slanted against his, pressing just so, his hands clutching the angles of Blaine’s jaw so tenderly at first and then with the urgency of need as Blaine attempted to roll atop his lithe frame was in every way heaven.

At least it would have been. Blaine attempted to straddle Kurt but he was prevented from doing so by the small obstruction that was the sleeping cub between them and an indignant yip from said cub as he was rudely awoken from sleep by nearly being squashed.

“Ouch!” the little boy cried from beneath the covers and Blaine all but sprained something scrambling off of him.

“Oh god Beni I’m sorry” he exclaimed  as Benito’s dark head poked out from beneath the comforter his blue eyes blinking blearily as he glared in confusion up at them both.

Kurt, oh so helpfully, burst into laughter though he did try to stifle it once he caught sight of Blaine’s unimpressed expression. He laid a soothing hand on the boy’s back and shushed him, mouth still quirked with delight as he crooned, “Shh. It’s alright. Go back to sleep.”

“No sleep,” Benito mumbled but his little head had already hit the pillows and his eyes were drooping.

Blaine sighed, watching and waiting until it appeared the boy had once more drifted off before he muttered despondently, “should I resign myself to never actually sleeping with you again?”

“Mhm. All that fun and now you’ve got to pay the toll.” Kurt chuckled softly, a hint of tease to his tone, and Blaine narrowed his eyes at him playfully.

“Excuse me, but I didn’t make _this_ one. I refuse to pay any tolls.”

“Oh is that so?” Kurt laughed as Blaine leaned over Benito’s sleeping form, carefully this time, until his lips were within inches of Kurt’s.

“It is so. I have plans for us tonight.”

Kurt hummed against his lips, allowing the kiss to buzz with warmth and the barest hint of pressure before he withdrew like the absolute tease he knew he was – a wicked gleam glinting in eyes that were now closer to the blue of his wolf. Blaine shuddered.

“We’ll see, won’t we?” Kurt quipped, and then with a depressing amount of sobriety he reminded them both that there was a ton to do that day. Blaine groaned, but it was far from the pleasurable kind.

“I should get going. I’m supposed to meet Wes before the others arrive for breakfast,” he remembered, though he made no actual attempt to get out of bed.

“I know. I wanted to talk to you about that actually,” Kurt said, the barest hint of nervousness twanging across their bond and Blaine sat up, more alert now, wondering what it was that was causing Kurt to feel that way.

“Yeah? Okay, let’s talk. We can talk about anything” he quickly agreed, sitting up and turning to face him in the bed, eager to dispel his mate’s anxiousness. Kurt’s lips twitched, a hint of that fond smile returning as he took a breath.

“Actually there’s several things we should talk about. Firstly, something has got to be done about the pack families, here in the forest as well as the families of the students.”

Blaine sighed, the mountain of issues clamoring for his attention taking up their noise again in the back of his skull.

“I know. Don’t worry, Wes and I – ”

“Actually, that’s the thing Blaine. I do worry. I want to worry. I care about the people here.”

“I know you do Kurt.”

“I know you know I do Blaine.” Kurt huffed, his smile turning something slightly more exasperated. “But they need to know it too, and I want to show them that I do. Let me help them. Let me help you.”

_The way I’m supposed to._

Kurt didn’t say it, but then again with Blaine he’d never need to.

He was right, Blaine relented. He reached for him, almost blindly, hand cupping the turn of his jaw briefly as he made his peace with letting go of the dream of providing for Kurt and never letting a single bit of worry or harm come his way. He wanted to give him that, oh so badly, and judging by the rueful twist to Kurt’s mouth Blaine’s thoughts were an easy read.

“I suppose you have a plan?” Blaine prompted because Kurt’s insides were practically squirming with nervous anticipation and that underlining determination that Blaine had always likened to steel running through his core. It was captivating to feel it now from within just as he observed it from without.

‘ _My smell. My insides. How much more of me can you find captivating?’_

_‘I don’t think there’s anything more captivating than you in all of creation.’_

Kurt’s cheeks flushed a startled pink as the thoughts flashed between them, quicker than either of them could even fully form them and Blaine trembled taken aback by the newness of their bond, its sheer _rawness_.

Barely a month old. It was so easy to forget that beneath the cloak of something that felt as ageless as time itself.

Kurt Blinked slowly, tongue darting out to slowly wet his bottom lip as he nodded, in something of a dazed fashion.

“We’re going to run out of food. God only knows what’s going on outside our borders and we can’t just simply stay shut in forever cut off from everybody. They’ll come for us. If not the government then the other packs. We need to do more than prevent making new enemies Blaine we need to make new allies.”

He wasn’t saying anything that Blaine hadn’t already thought himself and wrestled with; but damn it all, it was an easy problem to acknowledge and not an easy one to fix.

“It’s not safe to send the families back to Annhurst, Kurt, and we’re doing our best to appease the other packs but there is a lot to make up for. Nobody has forgotten what my father did, or forgiven it really. They were too frightened to deal with him but I’m an easier mark” Blaine admitted, with angry resignation and not a small amount of shame. “I’m young, and more importantly I agree with them. They’ve a right not to trust the Anderson’s and to want retribution.”

“Maybe,” Kurt allowed without giving any sort of quarter, his eyes narrowing as they flashed electric blue. “But they don’t have a right to take it from you. You saved their children and it’s about damn time someone reminded them of that.”

Leaning closer Kurt placed his hands gently against Blaine’s neck, turning Blaine’s head until they were once again eye to eye and this time no amount of guilt (no amount of anything) could have made Blaine look away.

“They don’t know you, so they think they can try you. It was the same every damn season at the theater. A new show meant a new crop of cast and crew, all of them vying to take somebody elses place on the ladder. You remember how I used to gripe? God actors are the worst. Always testing how far they can push you, what you’ll let them get away with. As if anyone in their right mind would let some doe eyed diva upstage them.”

Kurt made a face and Blaine laughed the memory playing between their minds with beautiful clarity of days gone by when Kurt would come home to bang around his little town house while he ranted loudly and fiercely about the latest disaster at work.

“How exactly do I show them not to try me, Kurt? They’re kind of all over the world and outside of my reach. Unless I take it out on their children…” Blaine faltered, grimacing in distaste. He didn’t think that was what Kurt was suggesting but he couldn’t see how else he was supposed to prove his dominance and keep the others in check.

“God no!” Kurt admonished. “Why is it you alpha-types always seem to jump to displays of violence? I saw in your memories how people used to gather here. You should invite them. Not every family – that would be crazy – but the important ones. Invite the Alpha-families of the big packs, strong packs, wealthy packs, and a few of the smaller ones just to show that we care about all of them and not just the ones who can throw their weight around. Have a dinner. Go hunting. Bond. Whatever it is we need to do to show them that you’re a wonderful man and you have a frankly amazing mate –”

Kurt paused, giving Blaine time to chuckle as he stared at him with, indeed, something like wonderment.

“- and that we want nothing but what’s best for everyone. Fight each other. I know that’s the only damn thing that will talk when alphas get together. Whatever the case, you should take a challenge yourself. With Excalibur. Because as much as it still scares the piss out of me and as much as they need to understand how far you’d go to protect all of us, it’s twice as important that they understand what you’re capable of if they threaten us.”

Blaine considered all that Kurt had said in silence. It actually didn’t sound as preposterous as he’d initially thought. The fighting and the hunting actually sounded a bit like an alhunt, an old tradition carried down for centuries that Westerville at the very least hadn’t engaged in since before Blaine was barely old enough to remember.

During alhunt packs in neighboring territories would gather together for a combined hunt. Feasting took place as well as night long games and yes, the occasional challenge. Though most were purely for sport, a chance for the gaurdwolves to test each other’s mettle and show off, it was also a good chance to work out any grievances they might have had against one another without escalating to a full on territory war.

In the old days the alhunt was a yearly practice, meant to foster goodwill between neighboring packs, maintain bonds, help young wolves find mates when blood within the pack was getting too muddied, and occasionally forge new alliances.

Blaine had vague memories fuzzed with youth from the last alhunt his father had hosted before his demons and paranoia had gotten the better of him. Kurt was right though. Things had thrived in those days. Perhaps it was time to consider holding another one.

“It’s definitely an idea. I’ll have to talk it over with Wes… but frankly, it’s kind of brilliant.” Blaine allowed, for the first time feeling something like hope for their situation blooming in his chest. Kurt grinned along with him and Blaine leaned forward to leave a chaste kiss upon his lips in gratitude. “Thank you. But what was the second thing?”

“Second thing?”

“Yeah, you said there were a few things.”

Kurt’s anxiousness was creeping back. Somehow Blaine didn’t think that boded well.

“Well the second thing was…I’d like to get back to being your protégé. Rejoin the guard I mean.” Kurt began and Blaine nodded along only frowning slightly as he really digested the words.

“Of course. But Kurt it’s really not necessary. You’re an adult. You only needed to by my protégé while you were learning how to control your wolf.”

“I understand that, but… Blaine I want to be your mate.”

“Kurt you _are_ my mate.”

“You know what I mean.” Kurt insisted, irritation beginning to buzz within him and Blaine’s lips tightened as he tried not to respond in kind.

“You want to be my Second. Honey we talked about this. One day you will be, but right now you should focus on- ”

“Having your baby?” Kurt interjected through gritted teeth, shoulders bracing but whether for a blow or to make a swing Blaine could not tell. Some combination of both.

“ _Our_ baby,” Blaine reminded him stiffly and the tension in Kurt’s shoulders eased a fraction, but only just.

“Funny, but you and I are the only two people who seem to recall that important detail” he muttered darkly and Blaine winced.  Kurt turned to him with a plaintive expression.

“Blaine you have to realize that my sitting around taking it easy and picking out colors for the den is only going to convince people that the den is where I belong.”

“You’re not being fair to yourself. People expect-”

“They expect me to be weak. I haven’t forgotten that Blaine.” Kurt pressed. “I’m a convert. Lower than an omega in their eyes, and while I don’t consider that an insult in the least I know it’s meant as one. If your people are ever going to be truly _my_ people too, I’ve got to earn their respect and I’m not going to do it from the den. You made sure I understood that so why are you asking me to forget it now?”

“Because I care about you!” Blaine snapped, losing control of his own temper, the rise in Kurt’s own anger triggering a mirroring response within him – the wolf’s instinct to protect by shutting down all opposition warring with human empathy. “I’ll permit you to eat with us. Do whatever you like, but you’re not fighting with us in your condition.”

Carriers didn’t fight. He could get hurt! He _would_ be hurt, and nobody would forgive themselves if they harmed either the carrier or the child they carried. Blaine would never forgive himself if Kurt hurt himself or the baby. Kurt just didn’t get it. He was being silly. _Reckless_ even.

“Don’t you _growl_ at me Blaine Anderson like I’m some disobedient _cub._ I’m not Benito. You can’t just huff and puff and expect me to- ”

“I expect you to obey me!” Blaine cut him off, a push of dominance behind the snap and Kurt flinched as if struck, leaning away from him and Blaine tightened his grip on the sheets where he’d balled them in his hands.

How was it that they could go from such seamless accord one moment, to _this_ in the next. It didn’t seem possible, and yet here they were. In truth he was at a loss, bereft at the sudden distance awning between them, cold spreading through his chest with warning numbness. This was not how they were supposed to be with one another. Not right. But he couldn’t just fold in the face of Kurt’s stubbornness. Kurt was a stubborn man. If he did that every time Kurt got it in his head to be so, he wouldn’t really be much of an alpha.

“Why?! Because we’ve _fucked_?” Kurt tossed back through his gritted teeth, eyes flickering to Benito hastily to ensure that the boy slept on. When his eyes cut back to Blaine they were sharp like blades and they stuck just as deep as.

“You think that sleeping with you means I just give you control over my life?”

“No.” Blaine chose his words carefully. Spare, succinct and to the point. “I’m your Alpha, and as long as you remain a member of this pack it means I do in fact have control over your life. You’re carrying. You’re not to engage in challenges. Is that clear?!”

For a moment Kurt did not answer, glaring mutely at Blaine as he ground his teeth, stubbornly refusing to bow beneath the weight of his alpha’s dominance. It made Blaine’s mouth itch. Like he wanted to bite Kurt. Bite and wrestle him down until he accepted submission, until he smelled sweet and willing once again. Kurt would probably have accused him of being an animal if he could read his mind.

To his surprise Kurt scoffed, as if he had in fact read it, and heaved a sigh, letting the tension drain from his body as he twisted himself and swung his legs off the side of the bed to stand.

“Who needs to read minds? We’re bonded Blaine. You can’t hide from me anymore remember? I suppose this is you putting the proverbial foot down?”

“I’m not changing my mind Kurt.” Blaine warned, eyes narrowed at the sudden shift in Kurt’s mood as he leaned over the bed and pressed a firm kiss against Blaine’s brow.

“Duely noted, Alpha.” Kurt quipped with all the proper shades of respect, and yet there was some underlining mirth, some hint of bite to it, that sent warning bells ringing in Blaine’s mind and if he were being completely honest, something not unlike anticipation singing through his veins. Blaine scowled. And if he’d had a way to glare at his inner wolf he would have glared daggers.

~*~*~

_The snow beneath her feet crunched as the maiden Morgana trudged through the frozen tundra of a seemingly barren land. Her eyes, blinded as they were by ice and snow, could see nothing but white for miles. She shivered, clutching the sodden layers of her cloak around her and did her best to ignore the sting of winters kiss. She thought perhaps that she wept. She could feel the burn in her eyes and the heave in her lungs but the wind froze whatever moisture was on her face into another layer of ice._

_Her soft boots were heavy on her feet, soaked and frozen through until each step was an agony. She had no idea how long she’d been walking through the cold. It felt an eternity._

_Canny of Hel, to try her this way. Morgana dearly hated the cold._

_She stumbled, perhaps on a rock hidden under layers of snow, and found herself sprawling at the feet of a structure previously hidden in the unrelenting gale.  A sculpture of ice rose from the ground like a tree, in the shapely figure of a woman so lifelike it looked as if any moment she would take a step._

_Morgana’s shivers gave way to trembles as she stared up at the woman’s face which was twisted up in sorrow as she reached for the sky, pleading to gods who would not answer. This was Hel’s realm, and she was the only god who dared to walk here. She toyed with the souls that she collected. And it was a collection, Morgana saw as her eyes drifted over an endless field of frozen bodies._

_She must leave this place. She bit her lip. The warm sting of blood that followed braced her, gave her the strength to lift herself with a cry of pain and stumble back onto her feet. Her hands were mottled blue and purple with cold._

_No matter. It was only flesh and she must not be distracted by it. Her spirit was what was in danger here._

_She knew in the back of her mind that if she simply stopped, allowed herself to fall into the cloud of white and let go of her hold on the glimmering essence she held tucked against her chest, beating in tandem to her heart, that it would float away lost to the storm and that she would return to warmth and safety. But the Briton king would die._

_She saw within her mind the faces of Lancelot, Kay and Arthur’s other men… men who had followed him to the edge of the world and who would gladly follow him beyond. Felt again how they loved him._

_She kept moving forward and suddenly before her stood Hel herself, cloaked in billowing robes of white, her dark face in sharp contrast to the white of her eyes. Her hair too was white, so that it seemed she was only a floating face ghoulish and grim._

_“What have you come for, Morgana Le Fey?” Hel opened blue tinged lips to moan, her voice on pitch with the howling wind. Hel was mother of the breath that froze in Morgana’s lungs and rasped in her chest, but Morgana was no gutless child to quake before the dark one’s issue._

_At least… she would try very hard not to be._

_“A life.” She stuttered, lips stuck and tongue slow with cold. “That which Bridie King of the Picts stole. It does not belong here with you.”_

_Hel’s lips twisted in a mocking smile._

_“Does he not? He stays of his own accord.” Hel lifted one dark hand and waved it outward and suddenly like an oasis something appeared, warm light spilling from the open door of a welcoming cottage. There was a slight figure standing in the doorway waving her forward. Every fiber of Morgana longed to head toward that welcoming light, the waves of warmth she could already feel emanating from the lit hearth. She shuddered and grit her teeth._

_“That is a lie.”_

_For it had to be true, whatever vision of comfort Hel had crafted for them had to be a deception. Sweet numbing deception to convince one to close their eyes and let the cold seep into their bones and make of them statues of ice._

_White teeth glinted in Hel’s grinning maw as the woman cackled._

_“A test then. Go forth, and if he be willing then his soul is yours; guard it well for it comes with a price.”_

_“Name it!” Morgana shouted hoarsely into the wind, weaving on exhausted legs_

_“A life for a life.”_

_In that moment Morgana thought of death, of broken promises and of unfulfilled prophecies. She thought of the crone who had warned her of the life she was destined to live…cursed to live. She thought of brave Lancelot, with such ardent love brimming in his heart for a boy king… with such fondness in his eyes for a small girl alone in the echoing halls of a castle._

_And in that moment she welcomed she welcomed it._

_She blinked finding herself standing before the open door of the cottage, as if time and space had shrunk. The smell of roasting meet and the sound of merry voices spilled out over her, beckoning seductively. Before her stood a boy all of ten and five. His hair was golden, only made more so by the firelight framing his silhouette, and his eyes were as sweet a blue as robins eggs._

_“Oh… Hello there. I thought you were Grandmother,” he said, sounding puzzled at her appearance and looking past her as if he expected to find another lost soul wandering through hell._

_“Arthur… King of the Britons?” She asked even though she had no doubt this was he._

_Before the young king could answer a woman’s voice called from within._

_“Arthur, who is at the door?”_

_Arthur turned slightly to holler back inside, a teasing grin lighting up his handsome face, “Tis a woman Mother. And she called me king!”_

_From within a man’s deep laugh rumbled and the woman replied, “Not until your father passes so best not get used to it. Invite her in now, you’re letting in the cold.”_

_So this was Arthur’s comfort? The delusion of a warm hearth surrounded by family, no doubt lost to him beyond deaths walls. It would be very hard to pull him away from this, for it was a dream that rather than dispel she wanted to bury herself in._

_Laughing Arthur turned back to her._

_“Would you like to sup with us? Surely you must be cold. Come, you are welcome at our table.” He stood back, opening the door all the wider in welcome and she could see behind him a beautiful woman in a green dress, blond hair glinting in the firelight as she set the table, at which a man who had the look of Arthur sat whittling at a rod of wood._

_“No Arthur,” Morgana shook her head slowly, bones aching with even that slow movement. “For there is no sustenance to be found at the tables of the dead. You must drink again from the drought of life.”_

_From within her cloak Morgana withdrew the essence and it glowed all the brighter for its proximity to its host. Arthur, eyes wide widening with uncertainty, backed away from it._

_“What is that?!” He demanded, and Morgana could only be grateful that he had not slammed the door for she doubted she would be able to open it if he did._

_“It is your essence. It is the you that you have traded for the dream you see behind you, and it is the you that you must reclaim if you are again to know life.”_

_“You’re mad…” Arthur was shaking his head in disbelief and Morgana knew that if she did not act she would lose him. Moving quickly she grabbed him by the arm and yanked him over the threshold._

_Instantly Hel unleashed her wrath, wind and ice kicking up with a furious roar that sent shards slicing against their skin and had them both throwing up their arms to cover their vulnerable faces._

_Arthur wheeled about, trying to run blindly in the snow back to the safety of the cabin but it had vanished in the storm._

_She kept a tight grip upon him, shouting over the roaring blizzard “I did not come all this way for you to think me mad you silly boy! Do you believe me now?”_

_“What… what did you do?!” Arthur shouted back. Ice slashed across his cheek and he hissed in pain, bright red droplets falling into the snow. Morgana pulled him against her body to shield him, though he was slightly taller than her despite being a few years younger._

_“I changed the rules. Do you want out of this hellish place?”_

_“I want to go back, to my mother and my-”_

_“They aren’t real Arthur! They are shades! Did you not notice that they were reflections of you? They are just wishes twisted up into false impressions.”_

_Arthur shuddered against her and she held him tighter._

_“They are what you want, but you must realize that you will not find them here… and the longer you cling to the notion that you can, then you are doomed to your little corner in this hall of the dead, where those who love you can never reach you.”_

_For too long Arthur did not speak or make to move and Morgana shivered and swayed dangerously, fighting to stay upright as the storm battered them. If they fell Hel would bury them both, and it would be the end of them._

_But she was tired and cold, and despite her will her knees were buckling. With a cry she crumpled into the deep snow, sinking fast like a stone through water, the bright light of Arthur’s essence flying from her hand and lost to the wind._

_Thoughts of Lancelot and Nimue flashed through her mind, and then of the father who had come to her door only the once and the mother who had let her go without a backward glance and then strong fingers grasped around her wrist, holding tight._

_With a gasping breath Arthur heaved her upright, and Morgana had only a moment to note with sweeping relief that somehow he had caught his essence when-_

_Morgana sucked in a great heaving breath, jerking violently away from the body laying upon the furs in the king’s tent as the last rope binding Arthur’s soul to the hands of Hel snapped._

_One of Arthur’s men caught her before she could injure herself falling to the ground in a heap as pain an exhaustion took its toll on her body._

_“Arthur?!” Sir Kay cried making to rush forward but Lancelot held him back at Morgana’s warning hand. When journeying into hell one had to be careful what one brought back with them. Wearily on shaking hands and knees Morgana leaned over the king’s body. He was naked but for the painted runes that Bridei had given her to combat his curse and soaked in a fine sheen of sweat, golden hair plastered to his brow._

_“Arthur?” She called his name gently, heart pounding in her chest with fear. She couldn’t have failed. She just couldn’t have._

_But then, slowly Arthur’s eyelids began to twitch and then even slower, his eyes fluttered open to reveal a familiar blue. He could never be a stranger to her again for she had held the dearest parts of him to her breast and carried them through the storm._

_But somehow, it was only with him looking at her with the light of life behind his eyes that she felt afraid. Something had shifted within her, left a door open that she could neither close nor prevent him walking through. He was within her when she’d only ever had herself and she found herself terrified of it as she’d never allowed anything to terrify her before (not even hell itself).  It was hard to breathe as her breath stuttered in her lungs and the walls closed in on her._

_“You’re the Goddess from my dream,” his thoughts twining through hers was a shock and she exhaled as if pushed, laughing with giddy relief._

_“That is not what men call me.”_

_The thought, usually laden with bitterness, was something else as it resonated between their minds. She did not hear his inquisitiveness so much as feel it and she marveled at the strange happening, the bond flourishing between them and the strange power she felt emanating from within him. She had never met a man with the heart of a wolf._

_“Men call me Witch,” she answered his unformed thought and his eyelids drooped with weariness._

_“Goddess,” his thoughts insisted stubbornly and then exhaustion took him once more and Arthur thought nothing more._

~*~*~

It felt like a year had passed since the last time that Kurt had gone to the dining hall to participate in more than a meal with the guard, though in truth it had only been a few weeks. While Blaine had met with Wes he’d gotten Benito dressed in that days outfit of choice (a pair of red shorts and yellow rain boots). It had required getting down on the boy’s level and having a frank talk with him about why he didn’t wish to wear clothes. It was a conversation made twice as difficult by the fact that Benito had apparently decided he’d had enough talking after the previous night’s breakthrough.

Though Kurt was gratified by the fact that they hadn’t completely regressed. Even though he refused to speak Benito thought at him quite ardently. It made Kurt realize how far inward the cub had drawn before then if nothing of his thoughts had slipped through before. Cubs this age weren’t supposed to have that sort of discipline.

As it turned out Beni did not want to wear clothes because he wanted to be ready. Ready for what Kurt couldn’t say but Kurt had sternly pointed out that if Benito’s goal was to protect Kurt he’d need to be where he was and Kurt wasn’t going to let him come with if he were naked.

Benito had pouted at him, scowling with unspoken censure but he’d finally relented in the face of Kurt’s unwillingness to bend.

He fit right in with the rest of the men and women gathered in the dining hall, all of whom were dressed for breakfast as a nod to sharing a formal meal with the Alpha-family; or what passed for dressing in the lycan world. Shorts. Track pants, flip flops, t-shirts, and not all of them even paired on the same body, was what passed for dressed when from one moment to the next you might have to be rid of your clothing.

Outside these walls they didn’t always bother. Kurt had seen more nakedness in the two months and change he’d been lycan than he had in the entirety of his life. He was going to work on that. Not because nakedness bothered him but because clothing was more than just things you wore it was, armor, artistry and expression.  It was an _experience._ One he refused to give up completely and he’d be damned if his children didn’t have at least a little appreciation for.

“How about it Beni? Fashion forward boots. I’m sure we can find something. Though those shorts are a particularly frightening shade of red, we’ll probably have to scrap them,” Kurt was suggesting cheerfully as they entered the dining hall, the sound of multiple conversations mixing with the clink and clatter of cutlery rising up to meet them.

Benito scrunched his nose up, considering the words as a voice to their left hailed Kurt.

“Kurt. It’s good to see you up and about again Sir,” a wolf he didn’t know greeted him with an eager smile and Kurt nodded, murmuring a quiet thank you as a she-wolf he recognized by the name of Harmony joined him.

“Blaine’s been coy but I hear there’s good news coming our way?” She was polite, but there was something off-puttingly direct in her tone that took Kurt back a step.

“uh…”

“I’m sure you’re relieved. Some people wondered if you’d be able to carry at all. One never can tell with converts.” Harmony’s eyes raked over him so suspiciously Kurt wondered if she weren’t waiting for him to jazz hand and shout ‘fooled you’. He wasn’t sure what his face looked like but it must have been a sight because the alpha he didn’t know the name of blanched, hastening to assure Kurt that it was of course not personal and that he had nothing to fear.

“And if it’s any help, my brother Bobby has delivered two cubs of his own. He adores them. I’m sure he’d be happy to answer any of your questions.”

Kurt had barely finished processing that when a voice came from somewhere behind him.

“I’m sure Matthew’s little brother is a _lovely_ boy.”

Kurt went stiff. Only Harvey Strand could make the word lovely feel like an insult. He waited, silent as the headmaster of Dalton school came to stand beside Harmony, so that the three alphas were effectively making a half circle around him. Benito shrank against his chest, eyeing the three adults nervously. Kurt could see the moment when he decided to be brave about it however because the little boys hands balled in Kurt’s shirt and he glared at them, baring his teeth in warning.

Harvey’s eyes flicked over the boy with distaste but thankfully he seemed content to ignore him.

“But really, Laura Dugen is the only one you should trust with the Alpha’s child. The Obstricia once offered to take her as a protégé. Though she didn’t wish to leave the pack, it proves I think that she has the right disposition to rear the Alpha-children,” Harvey said in that way he had, all succinct and heavy dominance. Like a man who expected to be obeyed no matter what the circumstances. The pack respected him, feared him even if Chandler was to be believed, but Kurt had never liked to be bullied and he wasn’t going to start putting up with it again, not any time soon.

Even if Mindy hadn’t already warned him about Laura, just the fact that Harvey was recommending her probably would have sent Kurt running in the opposite direction.

“I’ll take that into consideration.” Kurt flashed them all the most insincere smile of his life. “It’s strange though that neither of them have come forward. Blaine and I have been under a lot of pressure taking care of Benito on our own.”

The silence that followed was so heavy it could have sunk a ship. Matthew and Harmony shifted uncomfortably, suddenly unable to meet his eyes, but it was Harvey that Kurt watched closest. He saw the moment his eyes flicked again to the cub that Kurt held in his arms and he saw the way his mouth curled in disgust.

“I’m aware. Though I advised against it the Alpha was adamant on taking the boy in. So I suppose he’s here to stay.” Harvey’s stare accused Kurt, the alpha no doubt blaming Kurt for Blaine’s agreement to take Benito in, a thought that while misinformed Kurt would never take as an insult.

‘ _You’re damn right he is!’_ Kurt thought it, just for them, though his smile never so much as twitched. Harvey blinked, his gaze narrowing a fraction with some indecipherable emotion.

 “But surely you don’t mean for them to be raised together.”

It wasn’t a question. To Harvey it was a forgone conclusion, its obviousness so blatant that only a dullard would have thought otherwise and it was clear by his sneer, that he had no high opinion of Kurt’s intelligence. Harmony and Matthew were looking less uncomfortable now, bolstered by the stronger alpha’s boldness and nodding silently in agreement.

 This was all a dare hidden behind pleasantry (a challenge thrown). He could have cursed the man, because right now when they needed to be at their strongest and most united he was already sowing the seeds of discord. But Harvey’s only goal here was to cow him, and the important thing was to show all the eyes on them that he’d never allow that.

Widening his stiff smile to show his teeth Kurt clutched Benito all the tighter.

“I do in fact.”

“Have you discussed this with Blaine?” Harvey sharply countered and Kurt heard the conversation around them dwindle.

“Discussed what with me?” Blaine asked as he came up beside Kurt and most of him was relieved, immediately soothed by the presence of his mate at his side (where he belonged) but a portion of him remained tense, fearing that Blaine’s involvement would only feed into the notion that Kurt needed his alpha to fight his battles (or his alpha’s permission for every whim).

“His intensions to raise _that_ boy along with your children.” Harvey pointed to Benito who snapped at the finger with bared teeth and a growl. Kurt pulled him away, because the last thing they needed was everyone to watch him take a bite out of the headmaster, but he couldn’t say a little bit of him wasn’t proud.

‘ _Good boy.’_

Though the thought had been for Benito, Blaine gave him a scolding look as if he’d heard it. When Kurt just shrugged at him unapologetically he turned back to Harvey.

“Our nephew?” He asked politely confused though no one in the room would have been fooled by it. “Where else would we raise him?”

“Blaine! Have you considered –”

“I have, Harvey.” Blaine interjected, all lightness vanished from his tone as he stared the other alpha down. When Harvey made no move to start speaking again Blaine turned his head to consider all of those gathered in the hall who were watching the confrontation in silence.

“We were going to announce this officially tonight, but now is as good a time as any since you all already seem aware.”

A low nervous chuckle rumbled through the crowd and Blaine’s lip twitched with amusement. His hand reached for Kurt’s and Kurt grasped it, heart beginning to pound for some inexplicable reason.

“Kurt and I are adding to our family,” Blaine announced and immediately a cheer went up, an excited buzz cresting a swell of hope and anticipation so oddly wondrous Kurt felt himself blink back the sudden prick of tears. He couldn’t recall the last time so many people had shared in his happiness like that.  It was… well he wouldn’t trade it.

 Blaine waited until the noise had died down before he opened his mouth to speak, his bright smile fading with seriousness as he layered each word with unflinching authority.

“We’ll become a family of four. See, because this child-” Blaine placed a gentle hand atop Benito’s head. “-is a part of that family. He’s blood. And if that is not enough for some of you, let me be frank. Everyone in this room knows what my brother Cooper is and what he tried to do.  Lina Medici, whatever else you thought of her, was the reason he did not succeed. Her courage and her sacrifices are the reason that Kurt and I are standing here today and why you are not currently heeling to a madman. I haven’t forgotten this and you had better never forget it either. ”

The silence that followed was loaded, but Kurt held Blaine’s hand tightly and met the stares of the guardsmen gathered there in the hall with a promise, that if they ever did forget they’d have his wrath to deal with. And with Blaine there at his side, at his back, it was an exhilarating feeling when one by one across the hall heads began to lower in submission.

But Kurt did not fool himself thinking it was the end of the matter, and he knew that it had done nothing to change how most of them viewed him. It was a dilemma, because on the one hand he needed Blaine’s support when it came to things like this, but Blaine’s public support would also only help along the notion that Kurt needed his alpha to fight his battles for him. He wondered how he was going to get that thought across to Blaine.

He was pulled out of his thoughts when Blaine squeezed his hand, nodding towards the table where everyone had begun to take their seats to start the morning meal. Kurt sighed but nodded his own agreement, letting Blaine lead him toward the waiting table.

~*~*~

After that oh so pleasant talk turned reprimand before the meal, conversation at the table was subdued. Beside him Kurt mirrored the general mood of the table, quiet and closed off. He seemed content to focus on feeding himself and helping Benito to cut up the food on his plate. After their fight in the bedroom Blaine had hoped that his intervention with Harvey and the others might go towards smoothing Kurt’s ruffled feathers. No such luck it seemed.

Blaine scowled and speared one of the potatoes on his plate.  On his right Wes eyed the movement with amusement but wisely didn’t say anything. He’d agreed with Blaine that he shouldn’t back down (the notion of allowing his pregnant mate to engage in warfare even in practice was so ridiculous it was laughable) but had gotten exasperated with him when he’d admitted how the conversation had ended with both of them losing their tempers and Blaine having to put his foot down.

_“Yeah, Blaine,” he’d laughed. “I’m sure that did wonderful things for your relationship.”_

Eyes flickering back to his silent mate and the stubborn set of his shoulders Blaine was forced to admit Wes might be right.

‘ _You’re mad at me.’_

He knew Kurt heard the thought because his fork paused oh so briefly on the way to his mouth, but otherwise he didn’t bother to physically acknowledge Blaine.

_‘No. Disappointed.’_

Kurt’s reply couldn’t have hurt more if he had simply just punched him in the belly. He of course knew this, Blaine could hardly hide it from him without pulling away from their bond and hurting them both more.

_‘Yeah well, so am I. I thought you cared more about our-’_

_“Don’t finish that thought. It’s ugly. And it’s not true. You know it isn’t.’_

This time it was Blaine’s hand that halted mid motion, his fingers tightening on the hand of his fork, shame and fear flooding through him on the back of their mutual hurt.

_‘You’re right. I’m sorry. I just don’t want to be a disappointment to you… but I guess that was inevitable.’_

Kurt, who was cutting up a piece of meat patty for Benito, paused his motion to glare at Blaine.

_‘Listen to me, Blaine Anderson. I said I was disappointed, not that you were a disappointment to me. So don’t put my name to whatever voices you’ve got in your head telling you you’re not worth every bit of struggle to be with. We’re gonna struggle right?’_

Kurt seemingly without conscious effort was back to slicing the patty now, so vigorously that Blaine feared for the plate.

_‘And I’m not blameless. I know that. You don’t get why I need this as much as I do but all that shit I said about you wanting to control me just because we fuck- that was stupid, and crass and… and hurtful and I’m just, so sorry.’_

Blaine reached out and placed his hand over Kurt’s. It was the one currently holding a knife and maybe it meant something because he instantly felt better stilling the aggravated sawing motions of the instrument. Kurt took a shuddered breath and looked back at him, eyes hinting at tears though all that came from him was a sense of relief.

 _‘It was ugly. It was untrue. And I knew that when I said it.’_ Kurt admitted, and the relief that admittance brought washed over them both like a wave. Blaine closed his eyes briefly, overwhelmed by the rush of closeness, and the renewed sensation of being surrounded by Kurt and all that he was. He stroked the soft skin beneath Kurt’s wrist in unspoken gratitude and spoke his apology.

“I’m sorry too.” He leaned close to murmur into Kurt’s ear before brushing a kiss against the sensitive skin of his neck. “I was upset and I didn’t really try to hear what you were telling me.”

“You are worth it Blaine.” Kurt murmured in reply, head turning slightly so that their noses nearly touched. “I want to by your partner. I’m trying, so hard, to fight for that. But I can’t do it if you don’t let me. You have to let me in.”

The fact that his soul was thousands of years old was not a fact that Blaine Anderson regularly liked to think about. It struck him as absurd, to think of himself or some part of himself as having existed for ages upon ages in light of how raw and young he felt in body and mind. Surely by now he should know more? Have a better handle on life? Have figured out some way to protect the things he loved?

While he could not say why those things weren’t true, he knew it to be true that his soul recognized Kurt’s. Looking upon the curves and angles of his face, so beloved to him in this form or any other, and into the mercurial depths of his eyes, he found a bond. It was older than their houses of flesh and bone and it was sure in itself. Sure in this life, that life, and sure in the next.

He could be sure too, he decided.

“Okay.” He squeezed Kurt’s hand and watched as Kurt’s brows raised in confusion as he rose in his seat and cleared his throat to gain the attention of the others. When the conversation had died down Blaine opened his mouth. Anticipation shivered down his spine but there was nothing of fear.

“While I hope you’re all enjoying your meal, I know it’s on all of our minds that the forest alone cannot sustain the size of our pack indefinitely. There has also been dissent from our allies, who rightly have begun to question our ability to hold to our word and to protect their children. Kurt, has reminded me of the importance of repairing these positive relationships and reminding our friends and neighbors what makes Westerville strong. We want peace, but we won’t be bullied. Neither will we allow ourselves to be hunted like dogs and corralled into a corner. This is our home. We will defend it.”

There was an ardent murmur of agreement and Blaine let it swell before continuing.

“In a few month’s time we will open our borders again for an alhunt, where we will strengthen our alliances and show those who would think to come against us that we are not a pack they should cross.”

“Here here!” a shout went up, led by Adam who was looking practically gleeful at the prospect. Their borders had been closed for so long that Blaine had almost never known it any other way. He had never stopped to think about how isolated it had made them all. Adam hadn’t seen the pack of his birth since he’d come to Dalton and while Blaine knew he kept in contact with his parents (who had even offered to house Kurt’s family when Blaine had tried to get them out of the country) he had to be hoping that they might be on the invitation list. Kurt had been right about this. They couldn’t afford to hide from the world any longer licking their wounds. They had to become a part of it again.

“While we prepare for this it is important to strengthen our guard. All protégés past the age of fifteen who feel themselves ready can submit their names to Wes who will be organizing a week of majority trials. We will also be allowing any of those within the pack who feel themselves worthy, a chance to fight for a spot. This is not ideal and they will need extensive training but right now it is necessary. And I think we can all agree that everyone deserves the right to defend their home.

“But we won’t have a home if we starve out of it. So I will be appointing someone I trust to oversee our food stores and organize the acquisition of food outside our borders when necessary. And, while there is still a potential for hostility between us and humans, he will be the liaison between us and the human’s government. It is my hope that his efforts that might pave the way for a brighter future for lycans in this community” Blaine paused, glancing down at Kurt who was staring up at him with growing shock as Blaine’s nervous anticipation mingled with gleeful pride.

“I have chosen Kurt for this role. He’s uniquely qualified for the latter… but more importantly, there’s no one I trust more with our future. ”

~*~*~

“Kurt!” Chandler came running up to him the moment Blaine excused them all from table to trickle slowly towards the adjacent sitting room while the Alpha and Wes concluded that morning’s business. Kurt was still in somewhat of a daze after the morning events. He couldn’t believe Blaine had just done that. Just put him in charge of something so big like that without so much as a second thought.

On the one hand it was exactly what he’d asked for (wished for) a chance to prove himself. But on the other hand it was a really huge task that he felt largely unprepared for.

When Blaine took a leap of faith the man sure did leap!

Chandler came hurdling into his arms bouncing like a jack rabbit and Kurt tried desperately to get himself to a point where he could string two coherent thoughts together that weren’t oh my and god.

“There’s going to be an alhunt! I can’t believe you got Blaine to have one. There’s gonna be so many other wolves from like all over!” Chandler babbled excitedly. “Though I might have to meet Adam’s parents and that really freaks me out. Do you think they’ll like me? God I hope my trial is before then. I’d much rather be introduced like hi mom, pops, this is Chandler that capable, mature, incredibly sexy adult I’m gonna mate with. And not oh hey, this is that cub I’ve been banging.”

Chandler’s face twisted up in something like horror and Kurt winced. While Kurt understood Chandler and Adam’s individual circumstance and he supported the relationship, he couldn’t say he didn’t see the opposition.

When he tried to imagine Benito’s alpha-master (or the girl he saw in his dreams, with so much terror in her eyes) one day coming to him to try and explain how they’d gone from being a parental figure to courting one another, it made him want to bite something.  He couldn’t say alpha-masters falling in love with their protégés was ever going to be the done thing, but anyone who actually knew the couple knew that nothing untoward had occurred. Despite being given every opportunity Adam had not pursued a relationship with his the younger wolf until it had become silly not to.

Chandler was not a guileless cub. He just wasn’t. For all that he was seventeen he had arguably more life experience than most human teenagers. He’d been allowed to choose his path, as well as to explore sex and relationships without prejudice.

Daily he shouldered adult truths and responsibilities with care (if not always with grace) and Adam had been not only been a teacher but a partner in that endeavor. As a result Chandler was more confident with his body, his personhood, and his place in the world than Kurt had been at that age. That was good (the way it should be).

Chandler and Adam were both such good people and they deserved to be happy together.

“I’m sure even if you haven’t passed your trial yet that Adam will think of a more _tactful_ way of introducing you to his parents,” Kurt assured him because he counted on Adam having far more good sense than that.

That seemed to provide the teen with some relief because he was all cheer again as he weaved his arm through Kurt’s and pulled them toward the garden.

“I’m glad the protégés get a chance to graduate early but I’m not sure about letting every Tom Bobby and Susan who thinks they can be a guard wolf have a shot. We’ve trained together for years and all that new blood is going to make things crazy.”

“I’m sure you guys will whip the new recruits into shape. I’m honestly more worried about the age limit. Fifteen is terribly young to become a soldier… it’s what you are when all is said and done.”

“Maybe,” Chandler shrugged. “But hasn’t it always been that way? Maybe humans don’t talk about it but it’s true even for them. Nobody sends old men off to war. They send boys.”

“And girls!” Kitty, passing them on the right, interjected with a haughty flip of her ponytail and Chandler rolled his eyes.

“And girls. My _point_ was we’re old enough to get what’s going on. And when you understand what’s at stake, well some people are crazy enough to want to place themselves in the line of fire. I’m that kind of crazy I guess and that’s my right. My choice.”

Kurt was struck by the sudden urge to cry, and it took him a moment to realize it was because his young friend’s words echoed so strongly what Blaine had been telling him about Lina and what he’d asked of her. He nodded slowly, resolve strengthened and certain now of the way he needed to go forward.

“I’m glad you feel that way because I need your help with something,” he said, pulling Chandler toward the doors leading out to the garden and apart from the others.

“Is it the food supply? I’d be happy to help, but you’d have to ask Adam to borrow me. God-” Chandler got a dreamy look on his face, “-I like how that sounds.”

“I know you do,” Kurt laughed. “And while I’d appreciate your help with it, the food supply isn’t the only thing I need your help with.”

Glancing about to make sure no one was in their immediate vicinity Kurt murmured lowly, “can you meet me at the training yard when you get off patrol duty tonight?”

Chandler’s eyebrows shot up but he nodded swiftly, thankfully keeping his voice low as he asked, “What’s the occasion?”

_‘I want you to help me train. Blaine’s placed my training on hiatus and I need to become a better fighter.’_

Kurt watched as Chandler’s mouth fell open and he made an aborted squawking sound only to snap his mouth shut and nervously eye the others gathered by the fireplace.

_‘Kurt, are you sure? I mean stress like that isn’t good when you’re carrying.’_

_‘Your mother is carrying and she just survived a vampire attack. All the carriers did, so some careful training is not going to kill me Chandler. I’ve talked with Quinn and I promise I won’t do anything she doesn’t okay.’_

_‘But Blaine already told you no.’_

_‘He did. But it’s not Blaine’s choice. It’s mine.’_

_‘Sure, but the shit will hit the fan if anybody finds out and I’ll be in trouble because I helped you.’_

_‘You could tell them you didn’t know Blaine was against it. I wouldn’t be mad.’_

Chandler snorted loudly and fisted his hands on his hips.

_‘Right, because the Matca always leaves his mating bed to go train in the middle of the night, Kurt, get real!’_

_‘Okay, yes you’re right. Look I know this sounds crazy-”_

_“It sounds like trouble. Capital T, Alpha chewing on your ass, trouble. So let’s don’t and say we did. How about that? Let’s chalk it up to too much sugar at breakfast-”_

_“Chandler! I’m asking because I don’t want to be the one forced to stay at home when this is my fight. I can’t just sit like some princess in a tower praying for Blaine to handle everything. That’s just not me. Blaine and I, we need each other don’t we? And that means I need to be ready for the next challenge, whatever it’s going to be, and that means somebody’s got to be willing to show me what to do, or another crisis is going to happen and I’ll just jump into it anyway, only unprepared. So this might be hard, I might even regret it, but fighting at Blaine’s side is where I want to be. That’s my choice, and I’m asking you as my friend to help me.’_

Kurt was gripping Chandler by the arm, as if to keep him in place while he poured out his heart, imploring him to understand what Blaine could not seem to bring himself to. And it wasn’t even that Kurt was still angry with him for that. He did understand where Blaine was coming from after all, but it didn’t change what he knew he needed to do. This was the right choice. He knew that as sure as he knew the wolf, stirring inside him with purpose: as sure as self.

“Chandler, please,” he implored softly and the teen huffed, rolling the stiffness from his shoulders.

“You’re right about one thing. Blaine needs you. He shouldn’t have to do all of this alone… Besides, my mom is always harping on my dad for coddling her now that she’s carrying. I figure you and Quinn gotta know more about what your body can handle than I do.” The teen allowed a small grin lifting his too serious expression and Kurt smiled in brilliant relief _._ A moment later though, it was Chandler who grabbed his arm to stare at him intently as he pleaded between their minds, _“But this has got to stay on the down low. If you’ve got any body spray stashed away I’d make use of it, and don’t venture out on your own or you’re sure to run into the patrol. I’ll come to your window tonight when it’s safe.  ”_

Kurt nodded his agreement as he gripped his friend by the cheeks and nuzzled their brows together in heartfelt thanks. He didn’t know what he’d have done if Chandler had been unwilling to help him, and it was a relief to know that someone besides Quinn – who had walked in shoes similar to his – could understand why he needed to do this.  

“Thank you,” he said on a deep exhale and Chandler wrapped his arms around him and held on tight.

“You’re welcome. If you really want to thank me though, grab my ass a little. I can feel Adam watching and this could totally mean a little morning delight for me,” Chandler murmured against his shoulder with a happy grin and Kurt threw back his head and laughed.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So Kurt was always going to do what he felt was best but is he wrong here? On a scale of 1-10 how bad is this going to be if Blaine finds out? Also there's an outside world. Remember that? It's coming back.


	4. Teeth and ambitions bared.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kurt learns a thing or two about fighting Hunters and just when he thought he had the hang of this relationship thing he realizes he might have a long way to go, but that just makes him more determined then ever to be the kind of mate Blaine needs him to be. Sebastian learns a thing or two about the honor (and the danger of playing with fire) and something wicked is stirring in the east.
> 
>   
> _I know your powers of retention_  
>  are as wet as a warthogs backside,  
> But thick as you are pay attention.  
> My words are a matter of pride.  
> It's clear from your vacant expressions,  
> the lights are not all on upstairs.  
> But we're talking kings and succession!  
> even you can't be caught unawares
> 
>  
> 
> _So prepare for the chance of a lifetime_  
>  Be prepared for sensational news  
> A shining new era is tiptoeing nearer  
> and where do you feature?  
> Just listen to teacher.  
> ~Be prepared, as heard in Lion King 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **WARNING: dub/con, what I would personally call an attempt at non/con involving a minor.** It's in the very last portion and does not involve Klaine however it may be triggering. Skip the portion in italics at the end and read the end note if you'd like to avoid it or get a feel for how it goes before reading.

 

Getting out of the house unseen to meet Chandler where he waited impatiently beneath the bedroom window was easy since Blaine and Benito were both secure. Kurt had worried most of the day about how he was going to sneak out with a watchful mate and precocious toddler underfoot but as it turned out Blaine presented him with an easy solution.

He’d not been teasing when he’d said he had plans for Kurt that night. He’d given Benito his bath earlier than usual and commanded the child to sleep despite his usual fit over bedtime.  Neither of them liked to command the child into sleep, but both knew it might be years before Benito worked through his issue with going to sleep at night and in the meanwhile they couldn’t just let the boy make himself sick with exhaustion.

Still he’d wondered at it, hoping that this meant Blaine wanted to catch up on sleep or that he had something to take care of that night that would take him away for a few hours (one or two was all Kurt needed) but then he’d turned and looked at Kurt with the hunger of the wolf and Kurt had completely forgotten about anything else.

Well, not entirely. He’d not forgotten how good it felt to be with Blaine that way or how viciously ardent the desire to be one with him could get in the heat of passion- skin molding to skin, and wolf calling to wolf. He thought again about trying to explain this (the way they were) to his family, make them see it as he did, how it was more than pleasure; it was his nourishment in a dry dry desert, and he was keeping it.

Kurt didn’t decide to put Blaine to sleep (at least he didn’t premeditate it). He was too lost in the wolf at first, far more concerned with pulling every last gasp and breath from his mate’s lungs- until one of them begged for mercy- than he was with any sort of subterfuge. But then it was like a switch flipped in his head and he became determined to ruin Blaine.

He had to take him apart because Blaine was lovely and strong and proud and brave and kind and fragile and _everything_ and fuck, Kurt should be his everything too but he _wasn’t._

He wasn’t and that wasn’t right (that ached like a wound). Oh but he would be.

By the time Kurt was done with Blaine Anderson he was going to see the face of god, and then Kurt was going to tear apart anything and everything standing between them because _nothing_ stood between him and what was his.

Blaine had fallen back against the sheets in a spent heap, dazed and struggling for breath but practically radiating love and contentment. Kurt had tenderly stroked the sweat slick curls away from his eyes and leaned in close to breathe in his scent like it was going to replace air, and it was only after he’d rasped in Blaine’s ear for him to ‘sleep now’ and Blaine’s eyes had drifted shut with ease that he even realized what he’d done.

It did occur to him, the level of trust Blaine must have in him for Kurt to be able to dominate him in such a way. He wasn’t stupid. He knew the Alpha was supposed to be the ultimate dominant and never allow someone to get an edge on him. Kurt knew the precious nature of what he held.

It only made him all the more determined to hold onto it.

Chandler’s summons had come a few moments later and Kurt had simple gotten up, shifted and walked out, slinking as quietly and quickly to the nearest exit as he could.

Chandler was sitting beneath their bedroom window when Kurt met him, his lupine figure pressed up against the stone side of the house to merge with the shadows. Only His eyes caught the moonlight, making them glint in the dark like two floating orbs.

He staid still as Kurt approached, not moving until Kurt was nearly on top of him.

  _“Oh thank God. I thought Blaine was with you. This is too much for my nerves.”_  The younger wolf fretted and Kurt gave his muzzle a comforting lick. Chandler sniffed and then sneezed as if he’d caught dust in his nose.

_“You had sex. Kurt why did you have sex? Oh. My. God. I can’t believe I’ve been having heart palpitations down here while you were having sex!”_

_“Chandler- ”_ Kurt began but Chandler silenced him with a mostly teasing head-butt to the shoulder and a friendly chastising nip.

_“Don’t lie. You smell like you crawled inside his skin and then took a stroll through somebody’s sex dungeon. What the hell got in to him? Did you smile at someone at dinner? They get jealous so easily alphas; only Adam’s so level headed it’s so frustrating. I’m considering putting out the flag.”_

Kurt wasn’t sure he understood half of those words but he glanced at the smaller wolf in alarm because that last bit had sounded ominous.

_“What do you mean you’re putting up the flag?! Chandler you love Adam.”_

_“Of course I do, but it’s tradition!”_

When Kurt just blinked at him Chandler huffed.

_“You know? Way back when, when a sub was being courted and they wanted to test the skill and cunning of their suitor? Well during the day they’d hang something like their house colors outside their window where everyone could see it. So then all the dominants in town would know there was a sub inside down for some lovin that night. The catch was of course anybody interested would have to get past the suitor who would have seen the flag too and come to tell them all where to get off.”_

_“So you put a flag outside your window, and a bunch of strangers try to invade your room at night and you have to sleep with whoever accomplishes it?”_ Kurt asked, beyond incredulous.

_“Well yeah… but they wouldn’t be strangers. It would be somebody in the pack! And it’s not like a binding contract. I could say no still if like my worst enemy showed up or Ivan Lorent cause that guy doesn’t know the meaning of a shared orgasm, take my word for it. Anyway, so the alphas try their luck, Adam kicks all their asses and then he sexes me up. It’s a win win scenario Kurt.”_

_“What if Adam didn’t win though?”_

_“Then I’d do whatever I felt like with the winner and he’d get to wear my flag around and strut his stuff. I’d probably tease Adam for letting someone get the drop on him and he’d be an alpha about it and sex me up in a jealous bid to remind me why I shouldn’t go for a stronger alpha. Like that’s a thing I’d do. I’m telling you Kurt, win-win. Blaine never told you about flagging? It’s where the term comes from.”_

_“He told me about the biological part, the body language and stuff. He definitely left this little tradition out of his explanation.”_

Chandler grinned with all his teeth and his amusement swelled between them bubbly and boisterous.

 _“Did he now? I can’t imagine why.”_ Chandler’s grey and white peppered snout nuzzled against Kurt for a brief moment before he straightened, the lines of his body suddenly all business. _“Alright come on. We’ve only got an hour or so before the patrol passes this way again. Let’s practice.”_

~*~*~

Kurt had trained with the guard before, though never so late at night. The practice pen was somewhat eerie under moonlight and Chandler looked like something out of a movie standing in the center of the ring with moonlight and shadows bathing his bare skin and the unsettling visage of raised scars that painted his abdomen.

They’d taken their two legged shapes because as Chandler had put it, “Yeah our wolves are faster and stronger but most of our enemies are not other wolves. It will be wizards, Hunters and vampires who come at you and you might not always be in a place where you can go wolf. So every challenge starts off with both parties in this shape. Now most everyone I know tries to go wolf as fast as possible to get an edge, so you’re going to have to work on shifting too, but you should know the last time someone challenged Wes he met them like this and never even bothered to shift. He got his opponent on the defensive in their weaker shape and didn’t give them so much as an inch. It was over in two minutes.”

“That, while impressive, is not comforting,” Kurt grumbled and Chandler shrugged before he unslung the black canvas bag he’d collected from the game shed at the north end of the pen on their way in.

“He had a point to prove.  And now, so do you.”

Chandler knelt down to unzip the canvas bag and rummage within its contents for a moment before he finally straightened back up and tossed a small black object in Kurt’s direction. Kurt fumbled for a moment as he tried to catch it, surprised when he’d gotten a grip on the thing, brought it up to scrutinize and discovered that it appeared to be the hilt of a switch blade.

“Umm… is this what I think it is? I don’t think it’s going to make Quinn’s approval list.”

“They’re no sharper than our teeth and most of what I’m showing you tonight will be technique. You need to know how they work because Hunters love knives coated in vampire toxin. Get cut with one of their knives and it’s not pretty, trust me.”

Kurt nodded, shifting nervously as he pressed the release on the handle and the long thin blade swung free in a flash of silver.

“Okay so first things first. Your hold is all wrong,” Chandler began, stepping forward to adjust Kurt’s grip on the hilt. When he was satisfied he stepped back. “Okay so you’re the big bad Hunter and I’m walking in town just minding my own business when you decide it’s time to skin me. Go for it and I’ll block you.”

Kurt did not think that was a good idea at all, every bit of humanity’s built in common sense and instinct toward self-preservation screaming at him that you didn’t just run at someone you cared about with a knife. He’d seen Chandler fight before and knew that teenager or not the other lycan knew how to handle himself, but it was hard not to look at his youthful face and cocky grin and not cringe inwardly at the risk.

“Are you sure?” he asked and Chandler huffed an irritated breath.

“Am I sure that I, who has been training to deal with Hunters since I was thirteen, can take you, who was just holding that knife like you were auditioning for a lead role in a slasher movie? Yeah Kurt I think I’ve got it.”

“Fine. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Gritting his teeth Kurt took a deep breath and lunged.

It happened quicker than he knew how to stop but not so quick that Kurt didn’t see every humiliating moment as Chandler’s hand struck the back of his wrist with such force that he gasped in pain and reflexively unclenched his fingers. The force of the blow drove his hand upward and sent the knife flying off somewhere. He never got a chance to see it land because almost as quickly as Chandler had disarmed him the teen had an arm locked around his torso and pivoted on his hip so suddenly that Kurt could do nothing to stop his body from going flipping into the dirt.

He had just enough preservation of thought to pull away from his link with Blaine because he had no idea if the command to sleep would hold if he sensed that Kurt was in some sort of pain or danger and wasn’t going to take the chance that it wouldn’t.

He landed with a bruising thud and stared up at a starlit sky for a dazed moment before Chandler appeared above him, grinning smugly as he leaned down to offer him a hand up.

“You’ve got to roll Kurt, you can’t just lay there. If I were Wes you’d be a midnight snack right now.”

“I’ll remember that next time” Kurt grunted as he heaved himself onto his feet, wincing at the way his body smarted. He was probably going to bruise. Quinn wasn’t going to be happy and he had no idea how he was going to explain them to Blaine.

“You want to work on the disarm or the rolling first? If we can get you doing a complete shift while you roll it’s a huge advantage. I’m the only one I know who can do it.” Chandler practically preened before his smile faltered and something dark passed over his expression. “At least I could before.  I haven’t tried since… well you know.”

Both their eyes flickered to the scars on his stomach where a vampire master had sliced him open and torn out his entrails and for a moment Kurt felt the urge to be ill. Not at the sight of the scarring but at the memory of all that they had witnessed (the memory of a blade, sharp and quick slicing through him like butter and burying itself deep) and the reminder of how close Chandler had come to death. He was only alive because he was one of the fastest shifters anybody knew. Kurt privately thought it was all that boundless energy. He didn’t want Chandler to lose that, or anything else.

All of this could be taken so easily. He couldn’t afford not to be prepared.

“Teach me this roll, and then we’ll switch while you teach me the disarm.” Kurt answered him, and then meaningfully he added. “Then there will be two people in the pack who can do it.”

The dark cloud that had been hovering over Chandler’s expression cleared as the younger man smiled, nodding proudly in agreement.

There was no time for fear or self-pity. It was time to get to work.

~*~*~

“Mercy, mercy Medici mercy! You can’t do this!”

The village boy, chained tightly to the metal rod they had driven deeply into the ground for just this sort of execution, was not as loud as he should be.

Some would think it an odd thought, but Pietro Medici had been hunting for most of his life and he could paint the picture of terror in a man’s eyes when he realized he was being dragged to his death with his eyes closed, so ingrained was it in his mind, so familiar was he with this process of capital punishment.

This boy, of little account to anyone, had been unfortunate enough to be accused by others in his village of consorting with demons (the blood drinking variety). That was common enough in this part of the world, steeped heavily in tradition and religion as it was. The people were loyal and grateful to the church as well as the Hunter Order for their protection, for there was also no place as caught between the different sides of their Holy War as these little towns and cities lying at the feet of the Carpathian wilderness.

As hard as the Order had fought over the years to eradicate them, the forests were thick with demons who could take the shape of men when it pleased them and wolves when they wished to savage the villages.

Some others grew fangs and drank blood, and others still were even more subtle, using dark and unholy magic to hide themselves amongst the flock. They all had different names for themselves (werewolves, vampires and wizards oh my) but it all amounted to the same danger, the same affront to God, the same threat to mankind.

And a simple village boy dragged from his home still in his pajamas should have soiled himself at the thought of what was to come: the judgment, the blood that must be spilt for his sins.

They slit the throats of the ones who consorted with vampires because it was symbolic, just as the furs that lined their hoods and their boots and the teeth that they strung around their necks on occasion were symbols of God’s continued triumph over evil.

And yet this boy seemed more angry than afraid. One could even call the fire of contempt within his gaze righteous.

He must have been aware of the fact that he was bait: worm for the bigger fish.

He might consider himself innocent even. His only crime after all had been in aiding his ailing sister, now a fallen woman, in her quest to seek an audience with the Sept Sisters. It was the attention of the sister they were after, for they had good Intel that suggested she’d been accepted into the fold of the Valkyrie. Long thought vanquished, their return did not bode well for the future of mankind. They were illusive, but easy enough to draw out if one knew how to send the right calling card. It was well known that the Valkyrie were unfailingly loyal to one another. Fight one and you eventually fought them all.

It was a backwards sense of love and lingering loyalty which had led this boy to risk his life and consort with the forbidden, and if there was anything of the same lingering within the heart of the sister then they would not need to waste time hunting her. The Valkyrie would come to them.

With the boy securely tied Pietro and Miguel stepped away from him, allowing room for their commander to approach the accused. Razael loomed over the boy, staring down at his quaking figure with a considering gaze.

“Do you know who I am boy?” he asked and the youth’s eyes narrowed even as his teeth chattered with the cold of shock and fear.

“Y-you’re Raz-zel Med-dici.”

Razael knelt until he and the boy were eye to eye. When he spoke it was with a timber smooth and low, strong but threaded with the soft edges of comfort.

“That’s right and I am commander of this unit of the Heavenly Armies.  You are Diego, isn’t that right?” When the boy nodded Razael smiled gently. “Did you know Diego, that I was called by God to fight against the spirits of wickedness? The monsters if you will, that prey on us. They took your sister didn’t they?”

“Anila was sick,” the boy replied with a spark of defiance. “The doctors couldn’t help but the Sept sisters promised her they’d heal her.”

“Yes, of course” Razael agreed with passionate pity, sadness laden in every syllable as he shook his head and said, “but always at a price dear Diego, we must always consider the price!”

He reached out to grip the young man’s tear stained face between his gloved hands and leaned close still speaking softly.

“We do not always know why God’s plans should determine that a woman so young should be laid so low by illness, but even so His plans are for our good. We must believe that my boy, or where will mankind be? We are their food Diego, not their brethren, and if not for our divine protection they would make of all of us slaves and sustenance. We would be lost. As lost as poor Anila, who sold her soul for the gains of this passing world. Tell me Diego are you a slave as she is a slave? Are you food for the wicked?”

The boy adamantly shook his head and Razael nodded, proudly.

“Yes. I can see you are not. You are a good man. You love the Lord and wish to walk with him, no?”

Pietro turned away, not needing to see Diego’s reply or the sightless movements of Razael’s hands as he reached inside his black coat. It was always the same.

“Our Father in heaven, we venerate you as our guardian and protector. To the Order, you have entrusted the souls of the redeemed to be led into heaven. God arises. His enemies are scattered and the dark ones flee before Him. As smoke is driven away, so are they driven; as wax melts before the fire, so the wicked perish at the presence of God. We ask that you forgive this boy his wicked nature, and welcome him to your side. And this, we know, is how we are forgiven…”

Pietro was watching the trees when the sound of Razael, slitting the boy’s throat, reached him. He heard the aborted cry, the wet gurgle as blood gushed from his throat and the boy dropped to the ground like a slaughtered lamb.

He knew the reasoning behind why they did what they did, why it had to be this way (over and over and over again) one wayward soul to save a hundred more; but such butchery was a difficult burden to bear at times. His constitution for it was not as strong as Razael.

“Cousin,” Razael called to him as he stood to his feet, sheathing his knife. “You look like as if you’re going to be sick.”

“He was just a kid.” Pietro reminded them all, because sometimes he felt as if they forgot. Razael and his father Benito especially.

“I know,” Razael agreed with sobriety, beckoning for Miguel and the other men to see to the demonstration of the body. It would be a warning to others. They worked wordlessly, respectful of the dead and the quiet confrontation their captain and commander were currently engaged in.

“But these devils don’t spare our children. They don’t spare anyone,” Razael reminded him meaningfully and Pietro swallowed back the thick lump of emotion that swelled within his throat because he knew they were both remembering their many losses, most recently Razael’s younger brother and sister.

Lina’s loss especially had been a blow to the family, especially for Razael’s father (Peitro’s uncle Benito) who still held out vain hope that his daughter was still alive.  Peitro understood the temptation to hold onto the impossible. Lina had been a beautiful girl, a beautiful spirit, and the light of their house in so many then unrealized ways. A reminder of what they fought for… a reminder that there was more to life than daggers and blood and falling bodies.

A few years ago Pietro had heard a rumor that Lina had taken a lover and was gallivanting about the city with him in dangerous areas. He’d followed her, observed the American she was so taken with and had known him for what he was. Lina could not see the monster because she was just a girl, kept sheltered, but Pietro had been picking out that sort since he was a boy.   

He’d confronted her. Warned her to cut it off and promised that he would keep her involvement with him from her father’s ears because Uncle was not well and had a terrible temper. She’d not listened. No sooner had Uncle put out the warrant for the American’s arrest and capture Lina had gone missing.

They’d tracked her as best they could and every bit of intelligence they’d managed to gather on her trail had painted a gruesome picture. One of the werewolves had taken her, used her, most likely had killed her.  And though her loss was like an aching wound, for her own sake Pietro hoped she was long dead.

And poor Lorenzo, he above all had been innocent. He was not even a soldier as they were. Just a backwards child with stupid notions of tolerance and so called progress: a blind man in the truest sense of the word. Uncle had found him in pieces.

Pietro would hardly have dared to believe that the mythical Valkyrie were to blame if not for the signature black feathers Uncle found amidst Lorenzo’s remains. They’d been on the hunt for the she-demons ever since.

The Valkyrie had returned from hell to walk the earth again it seemed. Though stories of their might and terrible powers had survived into legend even outside the Hunter Order Petrio would not be afraid. He would drive them back into the hell they’d sprung from: for Enzo, for Lina, for the tired aching of his heart.

As Peitro Medici’s lips twisted in snarl, high up in the trees as still as the wood itself someone sat and watched.

~*~*~*~

Atai landed in the courtyard of the temple with a rapid flutter of wings, their expansive black shape molding and melting into the dark sink of her back like shadows chased away by rising sun and she stood silently for a moment, feeling every inch of her name.

Among the Valkyrie she was known as Fury and she was frozen with a deeply festering rage as she relived again in her mind’s eye the execution of Deigo Stanislov.

And to think, some men called them the monsters.

It was just as Morgana had warned them it would be. The world had not changed much, even after centuries of sleep.

Breathing deeply through her nose, Atai pulled the sweet mountain air into her lungs and did her best to release the dark anger roiling inside of her. Vengeance would come all in due time. Vengeance was what they were about.

No doubt Justice would have admonished her. She would have said they were about something far more colloquial, such as retribution.

It was at that moment that a flurry of rapid footsteps and swishing robes came rushing toward her, accompanied by the frantic calling of Merida, or Mercy as she was called among the Valkyrie.

“Fury! Fury come quick. You’ve got to get to the waking room.”

Atai frowned, confused and concerned by the near hysteria she could feel emanating from over their bond.

With an agitated toss of her dark braids she began marching purposefully toward the east wing of the temple, where the waking room was.

“What is it? Is it Anderson? I told them he was not to be trusted!”

 While the Sept sisters had always been friends to the Valkyrie, Atai did not fool herself into believing that they had nothing to fear from them. The Sept Sisters were vampires first and foremost and would always look after their own skins.

They had sat back and watched after all as the males of her kind, the ones who had called themselves Vryloka, had been hunted down and wiped from the earth.

But then again, it was only thanks to the Sept that the Valkyrie hadn’t met the same fate. The Sisters had offered them protection in these hills and had hidden their sleeping graves for thousands of years, so perhaps Atai was being a tad ungracious. She could not really expect them to turn Anderson away, when he was the last shadow of the males that had once populated her people.

Even if he was an unnatural creation and as dangerous as he was deluded.

“No Fury. It is Justice,” Maria answered and for a moment Atai’s heart completely stopped. 

Their wakings happened the same way as unborn vampires. Their bodies had to be buried in the elder soil, their souls bargained for from the other realms and consecrated within the black flame. If the soul was strong enough (worthy enough) then they returned to inhabit the body for second life: strengthened and uniquely whole in ways that most mortals never reached.

It was not a simple process and not without cost. The waking was hard on the mind and the thirst for blood was addictive. The males had all gone mad and the Valkyrie were only spared the same fate by their strict adherence to their Lady’s rules.  The men had never been any good at following the rules. Not with Mordred riling them up with his delusions of grandeur the way he had.

The Sept sisters had guarded them all these years and had been trying to wake them for over a hundred years now and it was only in the last decade that they’d had any success. No one knew why but even as the others had been found and woken from their sleep Justice had remained unattainable.

Atai had only been awake a handful of years herself but she had missed the other woman like an ache. She was meant to lead the legion and Fury meant to aide her. That was the way Lady Morgana had wanted it. Fury and Justice were mirrors of each other’s heart and echoes of each other’s minds and one was no good without the tempering of the other. Leading the legion on her own had been… challenging to say the least. Loath as she was to admit it, Fury missed Justice and her overbearing maternal nature.

“They say they’ve found her, and they’re saying it will take all of us to wake her,” Maria was saying, beckoning for Atai to hurry.

In response Atai’s heart sped up, kicking into a furious beat even as she and Maria began to run.

She couldn’t believe it was real (hardly dared to hope). She wouldn’t she decided, not until she saw it for herself.

~*~*~

Blaine woke that morning to the sound of furtive knocking at the bedroom door, the insistent noise enough to pull him from the remnants of a sweet dream. He sat up, blinking his eyes slowly in confusion as he puzzled over the slow languid motion of his limbs and the bright daylight streaming in through the windows. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had a full night sleep, or slept so soundly. Judging by the light the guard was likely well tucked into their breakfast by now, probably nearly finished.

Though he knew Wes was more than capable of getting the day rolling without him he cringed.  That was probably someone coming to see why they were still in bed at this hour. He couldn’t help but smile, thinking of the reason he’d been so exhausted.

He lingered over the memory of making love to Kurt (being made love _to_ ) the fervor and the passion with which they’d taken each other. And it _had_ been a mutual give and take. Last night it hadn’t seemed to matter that Blaine was his dominant Kurt had been the one in control, setting their pace, driving them into deeper and deeper depths. Rather than find it displeasing or threatening Blaine couldn’t have felt more satisfied, more rightly partnered (more faithful)  than with the man at his side.

‘ _You are my answering mind in a world gone mad, my solace, my water in this dry dry desert.’_

The thought drifted up from somewhere in his memory, hazy, soft and familiar though Blaine could not say where and when he had heard them before. He only knew their undeniable truth as he leaned down to impart a soft kiss upon Kurt’s bare shoulder.

The smile slipped from his face as he got a good look at him, taking in his tired features (he shouldn’t look so tired even in sleep) and the bruises blotting his back and shoulders.

They’d been rather vigorous the night before, Blaine well remembered, but he was torn by the evidence before him. On the one hand he loved the fact that he could see the places where his fingers had gripped and his lips and teeth had marked, but on the other he was troubled by how numerous the marks seemed (like they’d spent the night sparring instead of making love) and he couldn’t help the growl that rumbled in his chest.

“What are you doing?” Kurt mumbled sleepily and Blaine realized only as he froze that he was in fact in the process of wrapping Kurt up in their comforter like a mother goose padding her nest and flushed.

The sound of knocking came again, saving Blaine from having to come up with an answer and Kurt groaned in protest, burrowing deeper beneath the blankets.

“We overslept,” Blaine reminded him with a fond rub of the back, and then he swung his legs over the edge of the bed and stood up, blinking the last dregs of sleep from his eyes before he made his way across the room.

Adam was poised to knock for the third time when Blaine opened the doors to the bedroom suite and the other alpha took a respectful step back. Blaine appreciated it. While he knew that Adam was only there to check on them he didn’t like another alpha so close to his den, especially with his pregnant mate inside. Thankfully that wasn’t something Adam needed to be told.

Blaine would feel much better when Kurt chose his denmaids and the Alpha Suite was full again and there were others to watch his back. For the time being Blaine closed the door behind him- all but for a crack so that he could hear if Kurt called him (or if he tripped and fell on his way to the bathroom, or someone tried to sneak in through the window) because one never knew. He took a few steps forward, gratified when Adam responded in kind and continued backing up.

“Alpha,” Adam greeted him with a deferential nod, though the corners of his mouth were raised. “Wes sent me to see if everything was alright. He worried when you didn’t answer any of his calls.”

“Yeah, we overslept.” Blaine apologized, fighting sheepishness as Adam’s too intelligent gaze tracked over Blaine’s bare skin; belatedly he realized that Kurt wasn’t the only one with marks and bruises from the night before.

“Rough night?” Adam asked, so innocently that Blaine might have let it go if he hadn’t finished it with such a smugly amused, “rode you hard and put you away wet, did he?”

Blaine’s eyes narrowed, his mouth opening to insistently deny that anything of the sort had occurred (only it had, but hell if he let Adam get away with teasing him about it) when they were both distracted by the sound of Kurt’s distressed moan and his sudden flurry of movement as he stumbled out of bed and went running for the bathroom.

“Kurt?!” Blaine called after him, pinning Adam in place with a warning snarl as the other alpha instinctively took a step forward. Blaine’s senses were on high alert, insisting that the other alpha was too close and that Kurt was hurt in some way.

Adam backed up hastily and Blaine all but slammed the door in his face in his rush to get to Kurt’s side.

~*~*~

_Tock Tock Tock Tock Tock_

Morning sickness sucked.

Quinn had warned him to expect it, especially if he was going to be stressing out his body on a nightly basis, and the journals she’d given him were pretty explicit on the fact that carriers around week four typically started experiencing it anyway; but good god did it suck.

It was made monumentally worse by the fact that Blaine seemed to think it was his fault somehow, guilt and anxiousness twanging across their bond like an ill struck note and intensifying the feeling of nausea. Kurt was caught between the want to sooth and the desire to yell at him to get a grip or go somewhere else, but talking was above his abilities as his stomach rolled and heaved with a vengeance.

At some point Blaine had called Adam in to help (which was grand and exactly how Kurt wanted the other alpha to see him). While humiliating in the extreme at least the other alpha had been able to calm Blaine down and get him set on doing something helpful.

The commotion had woken Benito who became upset at the sight and sounds of all the adults in the room running around in a panic.  While the experience had been utterly hateful he was glad that Adam had been there to take the boy and calm him down. When Kurt’s stomach had finally settled and his body had ceased shivering like it wasn’t a hundred degrees out, Blaine knelt with him on the bathroom floor wiping his sweaty skin with a cool washcloth.

“We overdid it last night,” he murmured, hazel eyes darkening as they refocused on the bruises littering Kurt’s back. “I should have been more careful.”

Kurt shook his head, turning it a fraction so that Blaine wouldn’t miss how unimpressed he was.

“That’s not really how I remember last night. I did this to myself Blaine.”

Kurt was absolutely certain that it was his midnight trip to the training yard that had- if not done it altogether- been the icing on the proverbial cake.

 “My ears are ringing again” he complained, hoping it might distract Blaine from his needless guilt and free Kurt himself from the guilt that was beginning to settle over his shoulders in the face of his deceit.  Unfortunately it backfired, because he felt Blaine’s heart thud in alarm and the tension in his hands as they rubbed against his skin and then he was proposing that thing Kurt had been -not avoiding but- content deliberating on.

“Kurt it’s time don’t you think, to pick out the den and call for the Obstrica?” When Kurt wrinkled his nose it was Blaine’s turn to look unimpressed. “You need to be around people who have carried before, who know how to help you through this and who can keep an eye on you when I can’t be around.”

Kurt was pretty sure being surrounded by a bunch of omegas was going to make nightly trips to the training yard rather difficult so he was rather against it.

“Quinn can-” he tried to protest but Blaine shook his head and interjected.

“Quinn can help, but she’s not a substitute for a proper den Kurt. She’s still learning a lot about us and has a whole infirmary to run. She can’t pay you the attention your denmaids would. And I know you disagree but she can’t replace the Obstrica either.”

To that Kurt scoffed.

“Quinn is a licensed doctor Blaine, I don’t see what some uneducated ‘midwife’ can do for me that she can’t.”

And it was only after the words had left his mouth that he realized that they could be taken as an insult (or at the very least overly critical) toward the lycan way of things. He knew the words had landed funny when Blaine’s lips thinned and hurt washed across the bond like the push and recede of a wave.

Wincing, Kurt bit his bottom lip and tried to back track.

“It’s just that I know Quinn. I don’t know if I could trust a stranger.”

“You’ve known Quinn all of two months,” Blaine parried stiffly and Kurt struggled to keep his tone even as irritation began to bubble between them. He didn’t want to argue again so soon after yesterday morning. They were having a bad streak of them. Maybe they should skip morning altogether from now on.

“If we’re going by that logic I’ve only known you two months. And I’m pretty sure I got wolfy married to you and am having your baby, so I fail to see what your point is.”

“That _is_ my point Kurt.”

Kurt sighed.

“Can we just agree to disagree on that point, and agree on the point that since I’m the one with the mini person growing in their body, I should get to decide who I want as my primary caregiver?”

Blaine’s lips pressed even thinner as he withdrew, drawing inward and leaving the mental spaces he usually occupied feeling hollow and going cold. As long as they lived Kurt was sure he’d hate that feeling.  He opened his mouth to say something more but Blaine sighed and got to his feet before Kurt could get a word out.

“Sure,” the alpha grumbled. “But hey while you’re deciding, think about the fact that if you spend all your time shooting down our way of doing things you’ll always be an outsider.”

It was Kurt’s turn to wince, Blaine’s word’s striking harshly in the face of how hard he was trying to make a place for himself here and live up to everyone’s expectations for the Alpha’s mate.

“That wasn’t fair.” He absolutely hated how wounded his voice sounded in his own ears. 

Blaine’s tone in turn was guarded and cool as he replied, “It’s what will happen.  I’m sure you’ll make whatever choice you feel is right.”

He left without a backward glance, sharing only the fleeting thought that he’d kept the guard waiting long enough.

Kurt just sat there staring at the door as if Blaine was going to walk back through it (wishing he would). His stomach twisted in discomfort and he laid a hand to it, hoping it was just the conversation turned sour and not the signs of an imminent round of puking.

_Tock Tock Tock Tock Tock Tock_

He shook his head trying to clear it of that insistent ringing.

“Your papa is a jerk,” he muttered without thought and then winced, shocked to find himself speaking to what according to Quinn’s journals was little more than a misshaped mass with a heartbeat.

A heartbeat: It occurred to Kurt suddenly that the barely discernable sound he’d first mistaken for a ticking watch and now for ringing in his ears, could in fact be the tenacious beating of a tiny heart.

Quinn hadn’t been able to hear it with the stethoscope but she had said that carriers often heard it first.

He sucked in a breath, hand flattening over the flat surface of his belly in panic tinged with wonder as he put every effort into straining to hear that sound.

_Tock Tock Tock Tock Tock Tock_

God…that was..that was a heartbeat.  Kurt laughed, the sound aborted by a shudder as wonder bled into shock.

It was so quick. Was it supposed to be that rapid? A body that size shouldn’t have much blood to circulate. He wondered frightfully if something might be wrong. Should he go see Quinn? Blaine would-oh god!

“Blaine!” he called forgetting that Blaine had left him there because they’d augured, only maybe he hadn’t left yet because Kurt had barely finished calling before Blaine had come running back into the room, eyes darting every which way scanning for some sign of threat.

“What Kurt, what is it?”

“Come here!” Kurt gestured franticly, grabbing the other man’s hand when he was close enough and pulling him down until he was kneeling beside him. “I-I think its heart is beating.”

Blaine blinked at him before it seemed to hit him all at once and an excited sound escaped him as he followed the tug of Kurt’s hands and pressed his ear over his belly.

For a moment Kurt worried that he wouldn’t be able to pick it up. Quinn hadn’t been able to on the stethoscope after all, but then again lycan ears were about seventeen times as good as humans.  He hoped that would be enough.

He waited with body tense, hands gripping the dark strands of Blaine’s hair like a lifeline, strangely desperate not to be alone in that moment; not to be alone in the knowledge of the life beginning inside of him. For every attempt at adjusting he’d made he was suddenly starkly unsure if that was something he could bear alone.

_Tock Tock Tock Tock Tock_

Blaine’s breath hitched and Kurt closed his eyes in relief as a flood of mixed emotions washed over them both. Elation, fear (so much fear) and soaring above it all was a sweet numbing awe.

They had a child. Kurt could hear its heart beating and when Blaine was snuggled up against him on a bathroom with his head pressed close and their bond open between them, he could hear it too.

“It’s so… tiny,” Blaine’s voice was shaking. Kurt rubbed the back of his skull, patting the soft curls at the back and grinned.

_‘Would she have curls like Blaine’s or would it grow straighter, like his?’_

The girl in his dreams was always so unkempt it was hard to tell. But he knew she had beautiful eyes (Blaine’s eyes) and god he didn’t want to think about that girl because she was so terrified and alone and there wasn’t anything Kurt could do to _save_ her.

Blaine hugged him tighter, growling softly as he nuzzled the soft skin at Kurt’s belly pressing his lips in firm possessive kisses.

“It’s alright. Everything is going to be alright. You’re safe, she’s safe. I will never let anything happen to our family.”

Kurt knew it was true, that Blaine would die before he let something so grim happen to their child but he knew firsthand that there were things that not even someone like Blaine could prevent; especially alone.

“Neither will I” he promised, and hearing the gravel in his voice Blaine looked up smiling when he saw how close the wolf was, his eyes going warm amber in response. Kurt tugged Blaine up, pressing a firm possessive kiss of his own to his lips.

“Neither will I” he promised again when they’d parted for breath, steeling himself up for the day ahead. “I’ve got a den to get in order and a meeting with Allie about the food supply. We had better get busy, don’t you think?”

He caressed the curve of Blaine’s cheek and thought, _“call for the Obstrica. I still want Quinn to be in charge, that’s what I need, but you were right about what you said and I’m sorry.”_

_“I’m sorry too, for being so harsh and walking out on you. I was coming back to apologize… I don’t want us to get into the habit of walking away from one another when things get hard.”_

_“I have no idea what I’m doing…and I’m really scared.”_ Kurt admitted in response, letting Blaine see all the way down to the bottom of him, where he was small and afraid and a tiny heart was beating like a promise and a warning all rolled into one.

Blaine’s smile was slow and sweet, the kiss he pressed to Kurt’s mouth even sweeter.

_“Then we’re together. And that’s exactly how we should be.”_

~*~*~*~

Sebastian was old enough to have seen his fair share of courtships and he knew that how it went was largely up to the wolves in question. Betas naturally had to be approached differently than omegas. You wouldn’t waste your time proving to an omega how strong you were (it was an insult to suggest otherwise) and yet he’d seen some of the strongest alphas go a bit funny when they got an omega’s sent stuck in their nose and decided nothing else would do.

What he remembered of his own parents was of a solidly mated pair, his omega mother respectfully submissive and in awe of her alpha mate, happy in her role as a denmaker and content to let his father’s Beta retain his place as the Alpha’s Second.

Georg Smythe had never had anything to prove to _anyone_ and he’d have yanked Sebastian by his ears if he’d ever even thought of acting the way that Nick was acting.

Sebastian’s decision to integrate themselves into Pack Westerville’s chain of command had meant that they could no longer content themselves with always remaining one step apart from the others, which Nick had apparently taken to mean he had permission to dog Jeffery Sterling’s every step like the two had been born conjoined.

They always stood just a hair too close, laughed a little too intimately at private conversations shared between their minds, and generally looked at each other as if any minute now they were going to forget themselves and start fucking on the nearest surface.

It was enough to put a guy off his breakfast.

“No Nick, that’s the entire point of an alhunt. If we try and get along with the other packs, then honor will dictate that they _won’t_ always be trying to steal our land.” Jeff was currently trying to explain the brilliant reasoning behind inviting all of their rivals into their home to get a glimpse of their vulnerabilities firsthand.

“That theory relies on your enemies giving a shit about honor Jeff,” Nick rebutted, pushing a choice helping of meat toward Jeff. Did he realize he was doing that? Sebastian arched a brow and reached for an apple from the bowl of fruit near his drinking glass.

“Believe it or not Nick, most wolves see the value in an honor system. You can’t live your whole life suspicious of everyone else. The code the Guild Council instilled keeps the peace.”

“Christ, save me,” Sebastian muttered and Jeff and Nick both turned to stare at him with questioning looks.

“You say something Bash?” Nick asked and Sebastian shrugged, waving the hand that held the apple idly before taking a generous bite.

“Nothing,” he answered as he chewed. “Just finding religion.”

And it looked as if god did answer prayer because Blaine and Kurt chose that moment to _finally_ enter the hall and the conversations going around the table immediately died as everyone stood out of respect.

They all waited until Kurt and Blaine had taken their seats, with a brief apology for joining them so late, and then they sat down to finish the meal (even though most of them had already finished).

Kurt was quickly distracted by the appearance of the Medici boy, who jumped off of Crawford’s lap and came running down the aisle until he’d reached the high seat, demanding silently with both arms raised to be lifted, his expression indignant.

Sebastian watched them as he finished his apple anger and distaste mixing awkwardly with pity as he considered the small cub. He was half Anderson half Medici and should have been all things hateful; but while Sebastian was many things he’d never been a child killer. Not that things didn’t happen in battle. They did, collateral damage couldn’t be avoided and the child of an enemy was still an enemy, but to sneak about planning to kill a child just for the sake of it struck him as low. If only because he could never quite forget hiding in the dark, whimpering in fear with only his mother to guard him as Hunters snuck into their home like deadly shadows.

Benito Medici was all puppy soft curls and sweet puppy smell, big blue eyes round and vulnerable.  It didn’t make any sense, to feel a kinship and to pity his situation and to feel such sharp stinging hate at the same time. He stood by the fact that the only good Medici was a dead Medici.

Sebastian turned his watch toward the far more important happenings to the right of Kurt where Blaine and Wes were leaning toward one another carrying on a quite but discernable enough (if one strained and had particularly good ears) conversation.

“…will need to send messengers with the invitations. One of them can split ways to escort the Obstrica while another stays with Kurt and his party.”

Blaine was nodding in agreement and Sebastian’s interest perked. Blaine had talked about opening up the boarders and sending people out. It looked as if he wasn’t going to waste any time either. While he doubted that Blaine would trust either him or Nick to stray too far from the pack, this was exactly the sort of thing he’d been waiting for. Trust was an easy formula, simply a matter of a job done well and then multiplied.

Blaine glanced to Kurt for a moment and the brunette nodded at him before the Alpha stood, clearing his throat as the hall went quiet once more.

“I know Wes has already given you your assignments for the day but we’re making a few changes,” Blaine announced and all around the room backs went straighter and eyes exchanged curious glances as the Alpha continued. “We’ll be accepting a small group of volunteers, about twelve, to travel outside the forest. Wes and I have agreed on a list of families to invite to the alhunt, but not all of them are as blessed as we to live indoors and have access to telephones.”

Gentle laughter rolled through the room and Sebastian fought not to sneer. He had gone months in the wild without so much as seeing the walls of a house. These pack wolves were so tame.

“We’ll be sending some of you to track down these families and deliver their invitations.  One of you will be charged with escorting the Obstrica from her home in Cincinnati and I need at least two of you to accompany Kurt and his team on their journeys into town. Their energies will be focused on solving our food shortage and repairing the goodwill between ourselves and the town of Westerville, yours will be on guarding them.”

Sebastian smirked. It was a huge deal, the Alpha letting his pregnant mate out of the den to prance around playing the diplomat during hostile times. It was stupid and reckless, but Blaine’s love sick folly was Sebastian’s gain.

“I volunteer.”

All eyes in the room turned to stare at him in varying expressions of interest, shock and mistrust.  Even Nick was giving him an incredulous expression. Sebastian took another hearty bite of his apple, tossing the core aside for one of the serving omegas to deal with.

_‘Bash what the hell are you doing?’_

“To go with the Matcă I mean.” Sebastian clarified for them all, ignoring Nick’s probing gaze. “I doubt given my colorful past that you’d trust sending me out into the great wide world, but if I can help in some small way on the homefront. I’d like to.”

Sebastian’s eyes met Blaine’s and held, just barely holding back a smirk as the hazel went amber and Blaine crossed his arms.

His expression was as dark as a thundercloud the air in the room going dry and hot with tension, as if lightning was about to strike, and Sebastian shivered. God but the other alpha was gorgeous when he wanted to be, and whoever had taught him how to command an audience should have been awarded something. It was a shame really that he’d gone and mated before Sebastian could have a shot at bringing him to heel. And he wouldn’t have botched it up like Nick had with Jeff and ended up so besotted he couldn’t remember where his dignity lay half the time.

He felt eyes burning into the side of his skull and turned a fraction to meet Kurt’s warning stare.

_‘What? Rumor has it he spent a year as your actual dog Hummel. Are you telling me you’ve never been tempted to teach him to beg?’_

Sebastian expected the jab to put the beta’s back up but for some inexplicable reason Kurt just smiled.

“While I appreciate your willingness,” Blaine sounded like he was anything but appreciative and Sebastian’s gaze flew back to him. “I don’t think that will be necessary.”

“Pardon me, but didn’t you literally just ask for-” Sebastian began, frustration roughening his tone when down the table Luke snapped back at him.

“Not from the likes of you!”

Sebastian took a bored sip from his cup, not bothering to let the other alpha rile him when he knew he held the trump card. Watch and learn Jeff, this was the only thing their precious code of honor was good for.

“Oh, I’m sorry. Did you not mean anything you said about regaining trust and building a better world? Because I believed you, but I’m having a hard time figuring out how anyone else is supposed to when you can’t keep your word.”

An angry murmur of shock went through the room and he could feel the inner groan that Nick kept caged behind his teeth.

“How dare you speak that way to our Alpha? You owe him your miserable life!” Luke stood up, slamming his hands down upon the table into the cutlery rattled, body shivering on the brink of change. Sebastian was a tad surprised (though maybe he really shouldn’t have been given their years of friendship) when Nick straitened up and came to his defense.

“Actually we don’t. We helped save his life and all of your lives, so any debt we owed for trying to take them in the first place, I’d say has been repaid in kind.”

Sebastian bit back a chuckle and shrugged at Luke’s frustrated glare.

“Sucks but it’s true. We are still adhering to the code of honor?” He looked around the table, daring any one of them to try and deny their silly honor code now. “Nick and I have fought for you, bled for you, and we know there’s a long road ahead before there can be real trust between us; but we’ve earned the chance to try haven’t we?”

This was met with silence and the overwhelming feeling of discontent but Sebastian sat comfortably, sipping on his water. He had them and they all knew it.

“There is truth to what the MacTere has said,” Harvey Strand stood up to announce to the room and shocked gazes turned his way, including Sebastian’s. He watched the older Alpha with narrowed eyes. Harvey was a strong alpha, respected within the pack and not a force to underestimate. Sebastian had expected no help from his corner and the fact that he was getting it was off putting to say the least.

“We can’t keep them in limbo forever, Blaine. They aren’t prisoners and yet they aren’t quite free to go or free to earn a place here. I think we can all agree that is not honorable. And it is crucial, what with the alhunt coming, that we appear to our neighbors as above reproach.”  The Headmaster said and a thoughtful murmur rose in the wake of his speech.

Blaine did not look moved on the issue.

“And yet, they haven’t earned my faith and I’m not about to trust them with the safety of our Matcă Harvey.”

“No, no, of course not,” Harvey immediately agreed, making the idea sound as preposterous as it was. “But a smaller assignment, a gesture of good faith on your part I think will do the trick. Kurt was just telling me how difficult it has been for the two of you to see to your other duties and keep an eye on a small cub. You’ve not had time to set up a den, as is proper, but I imagine that will soon be rectified and when you do, you’ll need a dengaurd.”

Sebastian’s grip on his cup tightened, though he kept his expression carefully blank.

A _denguard_? Sure, some simpering fools might consider guarding the Alpha’s den as an honor; but he was an Alpha wolf, born of the MacTere! He was not a cub-sitter! Oh but Harvey had been clever. The den was inside the Alpha’s home and there were plenty of other’s around to keep an eye on them so it was by far the safer opportunity for Blaine to give them.

And if by some chance he should betray them it would likely be the child Benito who would suffer for it, because Sebastian’s tactical mind had already put it all together. Kurt and Blaine’s duties would keep them away most of the day. Attacking during the night while the Alpha was in residence and the guard was more alert was just suicide, but so many things could befall a cub unattended or lured away as part of some game during a busy day.

In that light Harvey had to be extremely naïve to suggest it, far too trusting that Sebastian and Nick’s only aim here was to prove themselves, and his show of support had actually done more to hurt Blaine than to help.

He knew that trusting them with something so important right out the gate was ludicrous right? That Sebastian was banking on calling their damned honor into question to pressure Blaine into allowing what otherwise only a simpleton would allow?

Maybe it was as simple as that. Maybe Harvey fully expected Sebastian to betray them and for Benito Medici to pay the price.

How utterly... frigid, Sebastian thought as he considered the other alpha in a new light.

He’d be proud if Harvey’s plans didn’t cast Sebastian him as the most short-sighted soon to be dead dullard to ever walk the earth. Sebastian would be killed no sooner than the blood cooled if he harmed the kid, or if he was seen to have failed in his duties to protect the Alpha’s den.

He was ambitious, not fucking suicidal!

Usually. 

He’d allowed himself to get to the point where he was willing to throw away his life on momentary satisfaction just once, and it had gotten his entire pack killed and he and Nick regulated to the role of den-sitters.

Sebastian might have his moments of foolishness but he was never the same fool twice.

He’d have his vengeance by living to rein another day. He’d form a new clan, stronger than the MacTere had ever been. Stronger than the Anderson’s and all their mystical bullshit, and then one day it would be Blaine begging him for favors.

And if then he decided he couldn’t stand the thought of Benito Medici’s continued existence, well then he’d do something. Sebastian had far less qualms about murdering adults in their sleep.

He could see Blaine considering it (knew already how it would go) and the way Kurt was holding the damn cub so tight with a furious glare swiveling between Sebastian and Harvey as if they’d plotted this together (as if Sebastian would willingly humiliate himself this way just to get an opportunity to strangle the little brat while he was napping).

“Christ, save me,” he muttered into his cup before taking a deep swallow.

He doubted this was a prayer god was going to answer.

~*~*~

_When Sir Ector had left them to see a blacksmith about some broken links in his chainmail, he had given Arthur’s foster brother Kay explicit instructions not to leave Arthur’s side. Sir Ector and his knights had ventured into the city for the big tournament and London was teaming with bodies. Arthur was thin and small for a page boy, not quite having hit his growth spurt and often too curious for his own good._

_When Kay had left Arthur to flirt with the young women selling flower wreathes and pretty bolts of fabric he’d given Arthur explicit instructions not to move from ‘that barrel’ and to stay out of trouble. And Arthur had intended to be good, he really had, but the city was so crowded- too many sounds ringing in his sensitive ears and sharp bitter smells assaulting his nose._

_The cacophony of colors, sounds and smells made his already queasy stomach only queasier, and the hot sun was unbearable against his flushed skin causing rivulets of sweat to drip down his body._

_He’d been sitting on the barrel, waiting for Kay, shifting uncomfortably when the fresh smell of spring water and something better (something unnamable) tickled in his nose. He’d gotten up to find it, dreaming of dunking himself in the cool waters of the stream and finding relief for the heat that had settled inside of his skin like a burn._

_He’d wandered through the streets and past the city of erected tents surrounding the township and into the trees, pulled by the prospect of comfort and a balm to his rioting senses. When he finally stumbled upon the creek running through the wood he’d all but fallen into it, swaying on wobbling knees as he blinked to clear hazy vision and make sense of his surroundings._

_There had been a man bathing in the creek. He’d been standing waist deep where the water pooled and had twisted at the sound of Arthur crashing through the brush. The strangers hair had been darkened with water, going a deep burgundy where the sun caught it and his gaze was alternately startled, curious and then incredulous at Arthur’s sudden appearance._

_“Oh…” Arthur gaped. He’d meant to apologize for intruding on the man’s bath but he couldn’t get out more than that one shivered gasp as the man’s scent fogged his senses and his wobbling knees gave out under him._

_It was him that smelled so good: like earth, copper and berries, like sweet relief._

_He was suddenly very frightened as he lay upon the ground sweating and shaking, burning from inside out and the stranger approached, dripping water with every step._

_“Can you hear me boy?” the stranger’s voice was smooth, thick with a northern brogue and dark with something feral, something hungry that set Arthur’s body to trembling._

_“Christ, you’re ripe for it.” The stranger muttered running calloused hands over Arthur’s fevered brow and he flinched, horrified at the needy whine that squeezed past his lips and the way he couldn’t stop himself following after that touch._

_None of this was right. Why couldn’t he move? What was wrong with him that he felt as if he were on the brink of death?_

_“Please…” he heard himself beg, “please help me.”_

_“Shh, Darlin it’s okay. I know what you need. Don’t fret,” the stranger soothed leaning close so that more of his smell washed over Arthur and he closed his eyes, the tension in his body easing as his mind began to float somewhere else._

_Everything was fine. He was safe and the stranger’s touch was cool and perfect and everything he wanted; but there was a strange sensation against his lips, a slickness and a pressure and his eyes flew open in alarm to find the stranger was kissing him, his tongue pressing against Arthur’s lips in a bold demand for entrance and panic flared hot and bright within his belly and he thrashed beneath the strangers weight._

_Why was this man kissing him! It was not right for two men to lay together that way. He did not want to be kissed in such a way. He wanted Sir Ector. He wanted Kay, but he couldn’t scream with the man’s tongue filling his mouth and the relentless grip of his hands were holding Arthur down, preventing him from struggling free of his hold._

_And he did struggle. The boy kicked and bit and struggled with all his might, forgetting every warning Grandmother had ever given him about showing people his wolf, but for the first time in his young life his wolf was failing him._

_Because the stranger was, if not just as strong he was, stronger and his teeth were sharper, and his eyes glowed a hot yellow as his face pressed close and pinned Arthur into stillness as if he’d been stabbed through with a blade._

_“Be still, boy.”_

_The command lay on him as heavy as a boulder, but Arthur couldn’t even shudder so stiff had his body gone. He could hardly get his chest to draw another breath, though he could hear the thunderous pounding of his own heart._

_“Good Boy,” the stranger praised and the tension began to drain from Arthur’s body, a hazy sort of pleasure welling up again to numb his panic and fear._

_“Don’t be frightened. Let me take care of you. You want me to take care of you.”_

_Arthur closed his eyes again, crying against the lips that pressed firmly to his because he did not know what was truth anymore._

_He’d thought he was alone in the world, but this man was as much a monster as he._

_He did not want to be kissed or for the man’s fingers to be pulling at his breeches in such a threatening manner, but his touch felt good, the bruising grip of his hands were addictive and heady feeling, but none of it was right and it made the pleasure of it turn sour, revulsion churning noxiously in his gut._

_‘Stop!’ He began to scream in his mind. ‘Stop please! Kay!’_

_The sound of ripping cloth filled his ears as hot fingers touched the hotter skin of his thighs, feeling cool and deceptively welcome. They weren’t, he reminded himself even as his body said otherwise. Nothing about this was welcome!_

_So why wasn’t he able to fight it? Why did he want that touch again so badly and why was he whining for them, legs opening as shameless as a dockside whore’s?_

_He hated himself… he’d never be the kind of man they all hoped he would be: Ian, Grandmother, and now Sir Ector. They wanted someone good, but Arthur was the farthest thing from good._

_“BASTARD! Let him go!”_

_Tears were streaming down Arthur’s cheeks, his eyes clenched tightly shut to block out what was happening to his body when a furious shout exploded in his ears. He started to weep then because he recognized that voice, and he was all at once dizzy with the relief that Kay had found him and sinking with shame at the way he had been found._

_Arthur was not sure who attacked first, though he thought it might have been Kay who came rushing at the stranger with his sword, his face twisted up in fury and disgust; but he saw how quickly the stranger sprang up, recognized the hot glow of his eyes and the thing that seemed to come bursting out of him until it had warped and shifted every inch of his flesh and beast was leaping back at Kay._

_Kay who hadn’t even been knighted yet who was brave and fierce but still soft and human and no match for monsters like them._

_Arthur’s heart was pounding again, drumming in his ears, as he struggled with his clothing watching as Kay battled with the strange wolf. Though the wolf’s leap had been almost too quick to follow Kay thankfully had the presence of mind to turn his sword up to brace against the lunge – though his eyes had gone wide with shock and the sour smell of terror flooding the air betrayed his inexperience._

_The wolf’s powerful jaws snapped an inch from the young squire’s face, the impact of their collision forcing Kay stumbling backward, but the quick witted squire had enough sense to push back on the blade with all his might, the movement forcing him to grip the sharp edge tightly in his bare palm before he yanked the blade across the falling wolf’s tender underside._

_The wolf yelped and snarled in outrage, quickly regaining his feet and dodging the desperate swing of Kay’s sword._

_There was no doubt in Arthur’s mind which of them would win the battle and despite the roaring in his ears and the volcanic heat roiling through his body he let his pretense at manhood fall away, releasing the animal that dwelled within his body and leapt upon the back of the other wolf._

_His prey grunted, surprised at the second attack and it was this surprise more than any skill on Arthur’s behalf that allowed the young wolf to land powerful painful wounds against the larger wolf’s back and neck, his teeth working savagely even as the larger wolf rolled into the dirt in a vain attempt to free himself from Arthur’s hold._

_Kay’s sword swinging down and nearly chopping off both their heads was enough to convince the other wolf to abandon the fight, kicking and wriggling with greater strength than Arthur’s smaller figure could withstand and bolting for the trees the moment he’d caught his footing._

_Arthur watched him go, blood staining the white fur around his muzzle, his body shaking with the rush of fury and adrenaline, panting laboriously for breath._

_“Arthur, Jesus Christ are you-Ah FUCK!”_

_He hadn’t meant to, but Kay’s hand’s upon his back sent all of his nerves snapping, the want not to be touched screaming through his mind like a howl and he went on the attack without thinking, whirling in place to clamp his teeth around the other boy’s extended hand._

_Arthur came back to himself the moment that Kay’s blood flooded his mouth, when the sound of his pain flooded both his ears and his mind as if the sound was reverberating inside him and he let go with a whine and backed away, curling in on himself as Kay shrieked a violent curse and gripped his bleeding hand full of broken bones._

_Arthur pushed the wolf away, squeezing his ears shut as he lay in the dirt, a pile of quivering bones, flushed pink skin, and childish wails: a wolf in sheep’s clothing._

_He heard something crackle, smelt the bright acidic burn of magic in the air and then Ian was suddenly there, leaning over him and placing a cool hand against his fevered brow._

_“An omega…” the Merlin muttered in shock, looking astonished for the first time that Arthur could remember, and so betrayed that Arthur flinched away from his hands and could no longer look at him._

_“But I saw him take the throne… Curse you Nimue, how can he be a king when he is an omega?!”_

_Arthur had no idea what he was talking about. He only knew that he was wrong inside and that Ian was  angry with him. He felt himself sinking further into the dark and cold of his mind, desperately wanting to be where it was safe, to not have to think or be anything (to escape the burden of being good)._

_“D-don’t touch him. Don’t hurt him!” Kay had somehow managed to get to his feet and grip his sword with his opposite hand even as he held the other one close to his belly and it bled freely down his arm._

_Ian’s eyes narrowed on the wound and then came back to Arthur, considering._

_“On the contrary Kay MacMurchadha”, he murmured lifting Arthur from the ground in one seamless motion.  “I’m doing what I can to keep him alive. And now it seems that you are going to help me.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Summary of the italics: Arthur and Kay (Arthur somewhere about 13 and Kay a young man) have accompanied their father Sir Ector to a tournament in London. Ector leaves Arthur in Kay's care, warning him to keep an eye on the boy because Arthur has a tendency to wander off. Arthur beginning to show as an Omega, has just begun his first heat something neither he or any of his human foster family is prepared for. He wanders away, pulled by the smell of a nearby alpha who attempts to see him through his heat despite the boy's resistance. Arthur panics and calls out to Kay who comes to his rescue. Arthur and Kay fight off the unknown alpha and Arthur accidentally bites Kay when his foster brother makes the mistake of trying to touch him. As Arthur begins to go into sub-shock Ian arrives, shocked to discover that the king Nimue's visions promised is an omega. He seems distraught until he realizes that Arthur has bitten Kay and commands Kay's help in protecting Arthur. From what he doesn't specify. Omegas don't lead packs or rule kingdoms; but maybe with a little help from his friends Ian figures this one could.
> 
> A/N: I hope this didn't scar you too much. So Arthur was an omega. Anybody see that one coming? Does it mean anything about the future do you think? While it's probably pretty easy to figure out why nobody ever knew, how do you think he was able to accomplish the things he accomplished? The power of friendship or something a little more magical? Or maybe he pulled a sailor moon and it was both ;) 
> 
> Thank you guys so much for your participation in my feedback post. *hugs you all* I enjoyed all of your responses and they've given me much to think about. For those of you who missed it, there's no time restraint. You can find it : http://triddlegrl.tumblr.com/post/140108483649/id-like-some-feedback-from-those-reading-the


	5. The world is ours.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

>  
> 
> _You see the things they never see._  
>  All you wanted I could be.  
> Now you know me, and I'm not afraid.  
> I want to tell you who I am,  
> can you help me be a man?  
> They can't break me as long as I know who I am.
> 
>  
> 
> _They can't tell me who to be._  
> 
> 
> In which Kurt takes control of his house. 

_Five hundred years before Arthur’s birth the Roman emperor Julius Caesar had conquered Britain. Though he made many improvements in the land (the remains of which may be seen to this day) Rome was harsh to the minor kingdoms, forcing upon them heavy taxes and tithes to support the expansion of the roman empire. All the kings of Briton paid these dues, none of them either brave enough or strong enough to stand against a might like Rome._

_Even mighty Uther had bent his knee to the Roman emperor, and Rome was happy to allow Uther his freedom to pillage and sack where he saw fit so long as he paid his dues. For this reason, and for the constant presence of wolves on his lands and upon the battlefield, Uther became known by many as a Roman ‘attack dog’. After his death many feared who his successor would be and if he might not come down upon them even harder. Many men had stepped forward, claiming a right to the throne but none of them could keep the crown upon their heads for very long._

_Weary of the succession of wars and the drain on the land and the coffers of their vassals (who in turn financed their empire) Emperor Lucius beseeched Ian to settle the matter. He promised that if Ian could successfully bring him the rightful heir to Uther’s throne, whomever he was would have the backing of Rome, effectively ending the bloody debate._

_In Arthur’s thirteenth summer Ian journeyed to London where Sir Ector and his men were attending a tournament, intending to collect Arthur in order to present him to Lucius as Uther’s heir. But rumors had spread that Uther had sired an illegitimate son and many of the Alphas of Pendragon coveted Uther’s throne for themselves._

_Arthur had wandered away from his brother Kay to bathe in the creek when he was attacked by an alpha by the name of Vortigen Pendragon, a young cousin of Uthers. The boy was saved by Ian and Kay. In gratitude it is told that Arthur gifted Kay with wolf spirit [it is one of the first conversions in lycan oral tradition] and upon learning Arthur’s true lineage Kay pledged his life to Arthur’s service forevermore._

_I have always felt that this story while tidy, has unexplained holes. Arthur, a young boy just on the verge of puberty and being raised outside the Pendragon clan, would not likely reveal himself as were-kin to anyone for fear of execution by the church, even to his own foster brother. It’s possible that Kay could have learned the truth of his non-humanity before the event, but nevertheless this always struck me as an odd gift to bestow on someone. It is far more likely given the cunning and covetous nature of Kay that he came upon Arthur defending himself in his wolf skin and wanted that power for himself. Arthur would have been in a hard place to refuse him._

_In any event, Ian was now concerned that Arthur would be assassinated before he could take the throne, changing tracks he journeyed to the lake alone to see the Lady Nimue for advice. He begged her for something that would help keep Arthur safe and help him on his journey as king and the Lady gifted to him the sword Excalibur fashioned from a metal not found in this realm and decorated by the same stones that adorned Uther’s crown, which had also been fashioned in the realm beyond this one._

_When Ian returned to Lucius with the sword both items glowed brightly as if lit by starlight, and when the emperor touched the hilt of the sword it felt as if all the fire of the sun had coursed through his veins and he could bare to touch it no more._

_And thus he believed Ian when he promised that only the rightful heir of Uther could wield such a thing and that only upon his head would the crown sit, and bring to heel the hearts of men._

_Ian drove the sword into a giant stone and told Lucius to call all of his vassals, young and old, let them try their hand and whomever could pull the sword from the stone, then they would have found Uther’s heir. And presumably later that year Arthur was able to travel with sir Ector in the safety of obscurity to the court of Emperor Lucius where he did indeed pull the sword from the stone._

_I see no reason to doubt this retelling. Though I have never had to use Excalibur in battle, I like every alpha of my house have been taught how to wield it. I can’t forget the first time my father took me to the crypts as a boy and showed me the secret of retrieving it. It is hard to explain what holding such a thing is like. I hesitate to say the sword is sentient, but it seemed aware of me and unhappy that I was not whom it was expecting._

_It is a sword who knows its master. I fear for my life and that of anyone else who should have to use it for any great length of time. The toll it takes on the mind and body after use depends a lot on the wolf in question but I would not recommend prolonged usage to any of my bloodkin. Arthur’s power in my professional opinion, is meant only for Arthur as he is the only one ever recorded who has wielded it without consequence._

_There are some bothersome holes here. If the sword is just a conduit for the crowns power why craft the sword at all? Yes it is useful that Excalibur can shift with the shifter but why not give the same ability to the crown itself? We may presume it can be done based upon the fact that Nimue fashioned both sword and crown using the same materials. So why not bring Arthur to Lucius as planned and simply crown him with a crown that will shift with him if that is the sword’s only additive?_

_[Note Added May 10 th 1892] – I took Ella down into the crypt today. She was very nervous and became frightened when I drew the sword. Perhaps I was over eager in my estimation of her readiness. Seven is very young, or so my Berta has reminded me. Of note, the cub seemed most distressed by the fact that when I held the sword I ‘disappeared’. Getting a proper explanation out of her was difficult through the sobs and Berta’s not unimpressive glares, but I can summarize from her responses that Excalibur intensifies the dominant pheromones so aggressively, that it drowns out everything, especially the softer notes of kin scent that cubs assimilate to in the womb. My frightened cub could no longer smell her father though I was standing right before her eyes. For that moment in her young mind I was a dangerous domineering stranger wearing her father’s face. _

_Berta is very pressed with me._

 

_\- Excerpt, from the Journal of Mattias Anderson_

 

_~*~*~*~_

 

“ _I can’t believe you said yes to that! Are you out of your mind?”_ Kurt’s thoughts hissed silently between his mind and Blaine’s only because he didn’t think it was going to help boost anyone’s confidence in their ability to lead together if he stood up and shouted it like he wanted to. Blaine was calling the meal to an end and instructing all of the volunteers to meet with him and Wes directly following the meeting.

Rather than answer, Blaine looked pointedly at him as if he were expecting Kurt to add something to that and belatedly he realized that Blaine was expecting him to tell the others what he needed in order to accomplish his own goals for the day rather than just doing it himself.

While Kurt was grateful Blaine seemed to have taken to heart his pleas to be more included in the running of things, he also knew Blaine and his tendency to lean on charming gestures in order to smooth away bigger issues. Maybe it came from being what amounted to lycan royalty and having a wealth of resources at his disposal, or maybe it was from people always needing him to perform rather than simply be; whatever the case Blaine Anderson seemed to think that the way back into people’s good graces was by performing a neat trick.

And yes, Kurt could honestly say that he found that boyish part of Blaine adorable most days, but there were sometimes (like now) when he also found it frustrating as hell.

“ _Thank you. But don’t think this conversation is over.”_

Kurt planned on taking Adam, Noelle, and their proteges with him into town after he’d met with Allie and Elise.

Allie was the head denmother at the school and Elise was the house chatelaine. Between the two of them Kurt was sure they could come up with a comprehensive list of things needed to replenish their food supply and keep everyone fed until it was safe for them to venture back out into the community of Westerville.

He’d asked the others to meet him in the front hall in an hour and he only hoped it would be enough time to do what he knew absolutely needed doing. It was time to do something about the empty den situation, because he was absolutely fuming at the idea of giving Sebastian Smythe of all people the sole responsibility for Benito’s welfare.

Kurt had been there when the MacTere had attacked Lina, he’d witnessed first hand the depth of Sebastian’s hatred for the Medici family and there was no reason that Benito would be exempt. Harvey Strand could not have set the boy up for injury better if he had tripped him down a flight of stairs and it had Kurt’s whole body trembling with suppressed rage.

“ _Kurt I know Harvey can be hard to get along with but he wouldn’t intentionally hurt a cub,”_ Blaine reminded him, his thoughts as soft and hesitant as the touch of a feather and Kurt narrowed his eyes in a glare that he didn’t bother turning to pin on him, because he knew Blaine would feel it through their bond and he also knew it wouldn’t make any difference.

He couldn’t resist however returning snidely, _“you don’t trust the MacTere any more than I do, so you should ask yourself why Harvey suddenly does.”_

“ _Kurt if we don’t give them an opportunity to earn trust and really find a place here, then by right we either need to kill them or run them out.”_

“ _Run them the hell out then. Don’t put Benito in danger!”_

He knew even as the thought reverberated loudly in his own head that it wasn’t that simple. Without Sebastian and Nick’s help so many more would have died during the attack and they all would likely have died. Kurt remembered all too keenly Sebastian saving his neck when the battle had gotten way too close. He and Nick had submitted to Blaine and offered him their loyalty, and both wolves had more than come through on their end of that bargain. He and Blaine couldn’t in turn repay that by killing them or running them away out of malice. Kurt wouldn’t have considered himself a practiced politician at any point in his past but even he could see that was a move that could come back to literately bite them.

There wasn’t much Kurt could do to change that unfortunate reality, and perhaps it was why he attacked the thing he could change with perhaps more fervor than he’d intended.

“ _What are you doing Kurt?”_ Blaine’s worried voice filled his head as he continued his march toward where Allie and Elise were waiting.

‘ _Taking control of this house.’_

“Matcă”Allie greeted him with wariness; he was sure the sharp edge of aggression coming off of him was hard to miss.

“If you’ll both follow me,” Kurt instructed with a motion of his hand, already making to be on their way leaving Elise and Allie to scramble to keep up with his determined march from the dining hall. Both women followed his brisk steps, their expressions guarded and Kurt did his best to cool the simmering anger in his belly.

Blaine had intrusted him with some very important things, not solely the well being of their home and growing family but the continued safety and well being of his people (their people) and he knew that he couldn’t make proper decisions unless he kept a cool head.

He took a deep breath as they entered the Alpha-wing.

The first set of heavy oak doors led into the Alpha’s bedroom but down the hall a ways there was a second set of doors (less ornate and forbidding looking in Kurt’s opinion) that led into the adjoining suite (the Beta suite, Blaine’s memory helpfully provided). Kurt had never been inside having only realized recently what all the rooms attached to Blaine’s room were for.

That was the first thing that needed to change. Kurt had been nothing but happy there (most of the time) but Blaine’s suite still felt and looked like Blaine’s suite. It had been the Alpha’s residence far longer than it had been _theirs_ but it was a necessary change if this place was truly to become a home for all of them.

Kurt grasped the silver handles of the door to the Beta suite and pushed against the white wood, his heart beginning to beat faster in his chest for some inexplicable reason. And he knew that Blaine was watching (in his way) the breath Kurt took as he flipped on the light switch directly to the right of the door seemed to catch and hold somewhere between both their lungs.

There was a short foyer beyond the doorway, the light from the covered bulb overhead doing little to brighten the entrance way with its dark wood and dated paneling. The first door to the left he knew lead into their bedroom (the Alpha’s room) so he largely ignored it, eyes eagerly roaming over the previously unseen.

It struck Kurt suddenly that this portion of the Alpha-wing had probably not been decorated since well before Blaine was born. It still reeked strongly of the 1970’s and not nearly in a good way. The Alpha suite, like so much of pack Westerville, was covered in shadows and dust, unable to shake the cobwebs of the past.

The low warning note of Blaine’s unease was hard to ignore but refusing to be daunted Kurt let his feet carry him beyond the foyer, following Blaine’s memory past the parallel doors of two small bedrooms, into what he was sure passed for a living room if one replaced couches with long backless lounges draped in pillows and quilts of various hideous shades.

He had not expected so many pillows. There were cushions and soft linings littering almost every surface in some strange nod to a Parisian boudoir (with none of the taste). In fact the only furniture in the room that wasn’t some sort of cushion or cushioned seat was the table in the small breakfast nook and the book cases lining the walls.

He would have guessed that lycan’s would want space for their wolves to run around or something, but then again... dens were small tight spaces in the wild he supposed. This soft, cramped, utterly _fluffy_ room was probably very nice to lay on all fours and cuddle up in.

“ _Exactly,”_ Blaine’s low chuckle filled his head, a welcome respite from the anxiety playing in the back of Kurt’s head like a long aching note from a violin. He stood calmly, centered in the middle of the room and took in the rest of the space. There were two more bedrooms in the back. The bathroom tucked between them had a pretty white door and a long handle that could stay he decided. Past them the hallway narrowed, curving just slightly, with a single door at its end.

That door, Blaine’s memory supplied, would lead into the omega suite, also known as the nursery, where their children’s bedrooms would be. There was also a larger living space in there and another dining area where their small family could eat in privacy when they chose (or separate from the den mothers when they wanted their own space). He knew from his own memory that there was a door directly into the omega suite from the Alpha’s room, and it occurred to him as he pictured it in his minds eye that the entire den was designed so that the adults surrounded the children. There was no way in or out of the children’s suite that didn’t go past an adult.

“ _Yes. Dens are always organized to protect the young. We’re their last line of defense and failing us, there’s a secret exit built into their bathroom if they ever need to escape.”_

With Blaine’s thoughts came more memories, unbidden like whispers, soft and shimmering like a day dream. Kurt could see Blaine, as he remembered himself, a boy of fourteen, small for his age, waiting in the dark for the noise to die down from his brothers room, slinking like a shadow towards the bathroom down the hall, praying not to be heard. There was a passage behind the secret door. It was dark and unlit except for the sporadic placement of torches giving off low blue light from the undying flame of the wizard’s fire. It went down deep and then stretched far, finally ending in the family crypt.

“ _Even though the door only opens for the right blood it’s hidden behind the cabinet where the linens are kept. I had to push it…”_

_Blaine tries so hard to be quiet but the chest where they keep the linens is heavy, meant to withstand the rambunctious bathing hours of the cubs who pass through here. The feet drag against the tiled floor as he pushes, lightly, trying to keep quiet and only prolonging the agony of each squeal and screech filled second._

_He pauses when he thinks he hears a sound outside in the hall, like a soft step, and his heart gallops in his chest. If his father catches him Blaine understands that Julian will kill him, with as little regret as he’d killed all those others._

_He hears the sound again, the soft shifting of fabric against skin and he panics, abandoning caution. He pushes against the heavy chest with all his might and the sound of it dragging echos loudly like a siren to wake the entire household._

“ _Blaine. What are you doing?”_

_He whirls around with his teeth bared and back pressed tightly against the linen chest, heart thundering furiously between his ribs._

_It’s Cooper standing silhouetted within the doorway of the bathroom, but it doesn’t make it any better seeing his alpha-master there instead of their father. Not after the things Ian had shown him in his dream. Blaine can hardly make sense of the things he’d seen. He knows only that Conner had died and that dad is at fault, and that more and more of them are disappearing every day._

_Their bodies fill his mind, cloud his vision. Some are found savaged and drained of all their blood, and still more horrifying are the ones who are simply never found._

_Dad kept them all locked inside to protect them he said, the curfew was strict to limit the disappearances and catch the vampires responsible, and yet vampires are never found and the body count only rises._

_He’d dreamed about his father the night before. His hands had been slick with blood as he pleaded with Blaine for understanding. Blaine had been crying, frightened but unable to move as his father’s left hand had pulled a dagger from his belt- one of the ceremonial ones the wizard Dagan always wore at the ready- and he’d known even as Julian begged for him to stay that if he did, that knife would descend and Julian would gut him without remorse. In the dream he’d closed his eyes, and within the dark he’d seen a vision of Ian, calling to him, reminding him of the door in the bathroom._

_He doesn’t answer Cooper immediately. Instead they watch each other warily, each waiting for the other to move._

“ _You’re abandoning us.” Cooper doesn’t say it like a question. It’s hollow but certain and for a moment Blaine feels guilt, for letting his alpha-master down, for the betrayal he knows this is, for everything he will never be able to return to and for never being the brother that Cooper wanted or needed._

_He’ll never be Tanya’s son, and he’s sure to Cooper he will always be a reminder of the end of his happiness. Blaine can’t share that grief the way that Conner and Christian had because it means regretting his birth and down that path lays death, but he’s pushed down it every day._

_He’d never known Tanya Anderson… but he wishes that she had lived and that none of this had ever happened. He knows Cooper wishes it too._

_Cooper must read his mind because he grits his teeth, something like guilt flashing in his eyes before his expression darkens._

“ _I know I’m hard on you Blainey, but it’s only because you have so much to live up to. You’ve seen what we’re up against. Balaur’s coven picks more of us off by the day. Look at how many people have died already!”_

“ _Killed in our forest!” Blaine found himself insisting, near a shout, heedless of the danger now, the rage and the fear erupting inside of him feeling volcanic in pressure. “Taken from their beds and their dens without a sight or sound of struggle! You know vampires couldn’t do that Cooper, not without dad’s permission. There aren’t any vampires, the monster is right here and it’s-”_

“ _Don’t say it! You don’t understand! You’ve never understood. You don’t know him like I do or you’d get it.” Cooper snarls bearing down on him and Blaine flinches but stands his ground. “You’ve never lost a mate, you’ve never lost a damn thing in your life-”_

“ _I have, Cooper, I have! Conner and Christian were my brothers too, okay, my mother died too, stop acting like you’re the only one who has ever suffered bond loss!”_

“ _You lost your mother?” Cooper practically spits in his face. “Your mother screamed through her entire heat, Allie had to cover my ears at night. I couldn’t sleep for days. Your **mother** , Blainey, had to be strapped down just to make sure she didn’t throw herself out a damn window before she could have you! Do you think father wanted you or her or **any** of this?! You happened, Blaine, so that there would be more of us to keep this family safe!”_

_His heart feels like it’s crumbling to dust in his chest. He hadn’t known those things about his mother but he hadn’t needed to. She’d carried him into life but they’d never bonded and if that wasn’t telling he didn’t know what was…_

Kurt squeezed his eyes shut, fighting the feeling of sickness and disorientation that had come over him due to the overwhelming strength of the shared vision. He could feel Blaine pulling away, shaken, and knew that the feeling of sickness and shame roiling around in his gut was something crippling in Blaine because my god, he’d been a child, born into such madness…

Kurt held him tightly, the essence of him, the warmth of him in the center of his chest and in the cracks and crevices of his mind. He imagined it like a thing he could hold, as if he could will Blaine into being right in front of him and wrap him up in his arms and tried to sooth the pain of reopened wounds.

‘ _You know it isn’t true? You weren’t born just to shield this family. You’re worth every bit of love and devotion you’ve been given. Don’t forget what you’ve built. What you’ve done for these people is so amazing, but you don’t have to do it alone any more. We’re going to rebuild together.’_

Kurt breathed out slowly as the pain in his chest ebbed, the feeling of surrounding Blaine somewhat different from the feeling of being surrounded but no less comforting. Holding Blaine this way was akin to cupping his hands around a flame, the warmth seeping into his body.

Opening his eyes he found Elise and Allie watching him, waiting patiently in silence, their heads lowered. Given their roles in the pack and how untouched these rooms had remained they had to at least suspect what was going through Blaine’s mind right now. They must have because as he and Blaine exited the seclusion of their own private world the pack bond was waiting, as it ever was, and he could feel both women standing close, radiating solidarity and warmth though they did not otherwise intrude.

“Thank you both for meeting with me. Please have a seat, I just need to grab a few things from our room,” Kurt instructed them both with a small but grateful smile. They nodded and took their seats over in the breakfast nook, their noses twitching as a cloud of dust rose around them.

When Kurt returned it was with a scrap book. It was far lighter than the one he’d been working on since college. He’d been filling that book with thoughts and ideas for just about every significant life event for years. He’d been forced to leave it behind him, like a lot of things from his old life, but he was coming to terms with that. Because as much as it had hurt to lose that part of himself, when he’d bought the knew book (a temporary replacement he’d assured himself, still so determined to leave Blaine and Westerville behind him as soon as his new body would allow) he’d known even then what it could be if he let it.

The thing about his old book was that he’d spent all those years cutting out pictures and saving bolts of fabric and drawing outlines of the life he wanted, and needed if the ache in his heart had been anything to go by, but all he’d done was put those thoughts into his book and then shut the cover.

It had been years of living off scraps, waiting for life to happen to him. That had been enough for the old Kurt Hummel, but that man had gone.

Kurt sat between Allie and Elise and cracked open the book he’d started in the little house Blaine had given him on cherry street.

‘ _Ready to build?’_ he paused before beginning, his heart beginning to race for reasons that he didn’t care to discern right at that moment, satisfied with the sharp taste of anticipation on his tongue as Blaine’s aura grew stronger and stronger, burning brightly within the center of his heart as if he’d set it aflame.

He’d done that, Kurt thought almost high on his own awe. He’d made Blaine stronger (they were always going to be stronger together). He loved this feeling almost as fiercely as he loved the man who inspired it. He had to clench his fist in the yellowed table cloth to stop the trembling of his hands, the wolf was so close and so eager to banish the shadows still lingering in the corners of their home.

‘ _Ready’_ Blaine’s answer was warm, loving, grateful, and so, so, ready. Kurt’s lips turned up in a smile.

“Okay, so I have a list of names for possible denmothers that I’d like to go over with you. The sooner we can get it all sorted the better.” Both women nodded in agreement as he spoke and Kurt got the impression from the tilt of Allie’s lips that they were graciously saying nothing of the fact that it was far _past_ time for Kurt to take control of the household. He appreciated that and hoped it showed, his stomach felt cold and cramped as he opened his mouth to say what he knew he had to say next.

Because it had occurred to him that to trust him Blaine’s people had to know him, and that meant that he couldn’t put up a mask or try and hide his faults, at least not all the time. He kept telling Blaine he didn’t have to carry the weight of the world on his shoulders and pretend to be infallible, so he supposed it was only fair to put his money where his mouth was.

“I apologize this has taken me so long. It’s difficult for me to think about...” he winced as unbidden his voice cracked. He swallowed thickly at the sudden dryness in his throat. Allie and Elise waited patiently, the sent of their unease sharpening the air. He was probably making them really nervous. Kurt cleared his throat and soldiered on.

“I’ve given every excuse in the book for why that is, lied to myself even, but the truth is I didn’t want to do this because I didn’t want to face it. I didn’t want to answer the question: who do you trust to share your home and your children? Because the person I’d most like to be here and to invite into my life like that is gone. I’m still grieving and not always with grace. I hope you’ll forgive me for that.”

“Of course,” Allie murmured softly, and Elise nodded, reaching a tentative hand across the table to lay over his.

“We all feel her loss.”

“Right,” Kurt cleared the block in his throat again as Elise pulled her hand away and he straightened in his chair. “I don’t know her as well, but Mindy Kheil and I get on well. Do you think that’s favoritism? I’d value your input. You know the people here far better than I do so please, if you have thoughts I’d like to hear them.”

“While I wouldn’t suggest going overboard, Kurt, your den is the one place you _can_ get away with playing favorites.” Allie advised with a smirk. “Which is why everyone suddenly wants to be in your good graces.”

“I don’t get why.” Kurt sighed. “I mean I understand that they’ll get to live in the alpha-suite which I guess beats living in a cave, but it also means being permanently stuck on babysitting duty for the next eighteen years.”

“I think you underestimate the importance of your denmaids Kurt,” Elise warned him with an arched brow. “These are the men and women who will be your confidants and support in every aspect of den life. They will coparent your children and help to form the mind of the next Alpha.”

“And none of that is possible to achieve without becoming closely bonded with you,” Allie warned. “And Kurt, having your heart is as good as having the ear of the Alpha.”

“From my lips to Blaine’s ears,” Kurt mused, lips twitching at how silicious it all seemed. Allie and Elise both chuckled lowly, grinning with him.

“Your denmaids are your circle. Blaine has you and the guard to help him lead the pack, but the Alpha’s attention is often pulled away to focus on outside threats,” Allie explained. “It might seem antiquated but your chief responsibility is to see to the well being of our home. Up until now Blaine’s done it all, and it spreads an Alpha thin. He misses signs of danger he might not otherwise have missed, the guard is less prepared for threats due to limited practice. He will count on you now to be dealing with the day to day issues and overseeing the well being of the pack.”

Blaine was counting on him to be his Queen. Kurt had read enough, been obsessed enough with European royalty growing up to know the description of a queen when he heard one. He could do that, he decided, and if the best thing for the pack was his continued involvement with Blaine and the guard he’d do that too, no matter what anyone else thought of it.

“Mindy is a good choice. She’s very loyal and has already raised one fine cub,” Elise smirked at him knowingly and Kurt laughed as she finished with a small sigh, “though you must resign yourself to never having another moments quiet.”

Allie huffed.

“Between her and Chandler you’d better hope her new cub takes after its father.”

Kurt grinned, though privately he didn’t think he’d mind. Mindy’s cub and his would grow up together and he liked to imagine his daughter having a friend like Chandler. More people could use one.

“I’d also like to invite Nathan and Derrick, they’ve been very kind.”

Allie considered the names thoughtfully while Elise pursed her lips.

“Nathan works in the bath house at the school and I know Terrance will be very sorry to lose him, but it can be arranged. He’s a very sweet man Nathan, and he seems to be a calming influence for Mindy,” she finally said, decisivly.

“You’ll want at least one more to start,” Allie advised, “and I’d suggest two in your case because while your selections so far are all people I’d trust they are also carrying their own cubs. You’ll want a couple of young and spry bodies to run after the little one you’ve already got, and it’s a good learning opportunity for them when they settle down to have their own cubs.”

Kurt chuckled, trying not to dwell on the rather absurd image of four heavily pregnant bodies waddling around the den, especially since his messed up psyche couldn’t decide if the vision of himself heavily pregnant was going to wig him out or not.

He didn’t know many young omegas in the pack except for two he’d met the night he’d gotten his first taste of sub-shock.

“Can you spare either Chelsey or Edez?” he looked at Elise who smiled.

“Better make it Chelsey, Edez would make a goose of himself. He has quite the crush on your Blaine. I’ve heard nothing but endless prattle about what a wonderful alpha he is since Edez served you two that night. The boy is harmless, but he’s unmated and your wolf wont care much once your hormones start taking you for a spin.”

No. Kurt thought, mouth tightening, he didn’t much care for the thought of some young unbonded omega (smelling like willingness and attraction) hanging around. Not that he thought Blaine would do anything with a teenager if he was going to step out at all, he just didn’t much care for the thought. He’d smelled such a thing once before, on twelve-year-old Clara O’brennan when she and Blaine had played together and he knew it to be an overpowering and irritating scent.

‘ _And you’re a hundred percent sure you’re not jealous Kurt?’_ Blaine teased.

‘ _I don’t know, are you a hundred percent sure you told me all there was to know about flagging, Blaine?’_

Blaine’s silence was satisfying.

“Can I suggest also inviting Stacey Evans,” Allie prompted thoughtfully, and Kurt frowned, the name tickling the back of his mind until he remembered where he’d heard it. “Both her brothers were killed and it has hit her hard. She doesn’t speak much anymore and spends too much time in her head… I worry that if we can’t find a way to draw her out, she’ll simply wander away one day.”

For a moment none of them spoke because they all knew what it meant when a wolf got up to wander. That was how they died. They closed themselves off, got up and simply wandered away. It was as if, rather than burden their loved ones or risk severing their bonds in some traumatic way, they chose to simply fade away little by little.

Benito wasn’t speaking much either and that made Kurt’s fear for him return all the stronger. He knew Quinn thought that time would be his best healer but he didn’t want to think about Benito fading away like that, or this girl Stacey who had lost so much so quickly and done nothing to deserve it.

“I’d love to. And I’d like to get them all settled as quickly as possible, which brings me to why I’ve really brought you here.”

Allie and Elise shared curious expressions as Kurt flipped open his book.

“Clearly this place needs some updating,” he dove right into it, because once decided he rarely quibbled. “We’ll work on this end first and when we’re done with the Beta suite we can move to where the children will sleep. I think it would be a good idea to allow Benito to help design his own room, it might make the transition easier for him...”

And so, Kurt Hummel, Matca of Pack Westerville began to rebuild.

 

~*~*~*~

 

**Arthur, the defeat of Rome and the birth of the Hunter Order**

 

_Like his father before him Arthur had conquered the lesser kings and lords, taking back the territories that Uther had once ruled over and uniting them all as one land. Unlike Uther he ruled with wisdom and a nobility of heart that has become legendary, endearing him into the hearts and memories of mankind._

_As the story goes Arthur and his men were at home in Camelot, resting after the successful reclaiming of the kingdom of Benoc, Arthur’s kingdom once more at peace. They spent their days in it making merry. Arthur had begun to court the Lady Morgana, who had returned with them from the frozen north after saving Arthur’s life and had been appointed court healer. Not all were pleased by this union for Lady Morgana despite the title Arthur had given her, was in fact no lady with no name behind her to speak of. Christianity was spreading and Morgana’s unapologetic pagan practices frightened many of them, but Arthur would not be turned from her._

_The peace that Arthur so painstakingly established shattered when Rome, determined to drive the Picts out of the north and to finally conquer their lands, went back on the treaty Arthur had negotiated with Bridei king of the Picts and began raiding and burning their lands once more._

_Some say that the Lady Morgana was at this time also being courted by the pictish king. By her action it is sumerizable that she bore him some fondness for she was greatly angered with Rome and when the demands came from the emperor for soldiers and coin she is recorded in multiple accounts as having said to Arthur in a fit of pique:_

“ _The land is the king and a king with no respect for the land is a fool. Is this the king they hailed in the streets as all things fair? Is that Arthur the same man who trembles before the name of Ceaser, whom gives his word even as he draws his sword from behind his back?! That is not the man you are, I know it isn’t... Though others would council you to think only of the good of your own house I pray you to think of all that you have done… the happiness you have brought to a people so weary, so afraid to trust... do not betray their hope.”_

  _Arthur’s decision to ignore the summons from Rome lead one to believe that if she and Bridei ever had a relationship it was likely over, that or he was so greatly enamored of her that it did not matter to him that she belonged to another._

_In either case, when the expected reply from Arthur did not come Lucius sent twelve messengers from Rome. After bowing to the king, they said:_

_"Sir, our mighty Emperor Lucius bids you well, and commands that you send him the money and able bodied men he is owed. If you refuse, the emperor will make such war against you that it will be an example to all the world, and before you are executed he will force your proud back to bend and show them the difference between a boy and one such as he."_

_The younger members of Arthur’s guard bared their teeth, their wolves poised to lunge but they were held at bay by the older knights, who had more self-control. Enough to wait to see what Arthur would do._

_With grace and courteousness he saw to his guests lodgings and called a council of the circle to ask their advice._

_Sir Lancelot, Arthur’s champion, spoke first saying:_

“ _While I do not welcome a return to war I cannot forget what you have done for me and my people. You kept your oaths to me though there was little gain in it for you and gave us our freedom. Benoc will fight for you."_

“ _Touching as that speech was, let no one forget the emperor has all of Rome behind him. It is in fact a fight easily avoided by adhering to the rules of Rome.” Sir Kay is said to have responded. “This madness does not come from you. It comes from that pretty witch of yours, curse her black tongue. Arthur you must be reasonable!”_

“ _My lord Arthur,” said sir Percival then, “No one can tell you how to rule. We as your loyal men will follow you, wherever you lead us… even if that is into death. I can however tell you how you have ruled. You have made all of us your subjects, given us lands and titles, rebuilt our homes and gifted us with the tools of our trades. You have freed those wrongfully imprisoned and punished the guilty. You have bound the kingdom together, and stopped our civil wars. For that I know that I and many others would pray you make war on these Romans. You are our king. I pray it is always so."_

_When Arthur heard this, he was moved by their faith, and though Kay was unhappy even he swore that he and the knights of the Sauvage forest would follow Arthur into war against the Romans if that was his desire. It would appear it very much was._

_"Return to your emperor.” Arthur told the messengers when they had been fetched to the hall once more. “Tell him that I wish him no ill, but if he should come with his army then this I promise: I will bend his proud back until it breaks. He will see the difference between he and I, and he will wish he hadn’t.”_

_And so war was declared and Arthur’s army marched till they came near to the troops of the roman emperor. That night they rested and in the morning they rose with the rising of the sun and looked out at the Roman legions. The gold on their tents and on their brightly shining armors glittered brightly within the lush green of the fields. The emperor's tent rose in the center, the stature of a golden eagle, the emblem of Rome, perched upon the rich purple roof of the tent._

_Sirs Lancelot and Gawain rode out under the white flag to bid Lucius to depart before blood was shed but neither of them expected much to come of it so they were not disappointed when he laughed and turned them away._

_As the soldiers on each side made ready for war. The emperor of Rome addressed his soldiers thus:_

“ _Romans! Remember that that is what you are. We will not be frightened by this Briton boy who calls himself a king!"_

_It is said that King Arthur galloped up and down before the front rank of his men on a mare as white as snow, unarmored but for the sword Excalibur sheathed at his side. Before his departure the lady Morgana had come to his room to paint upon his skin the runes for protection, and it was said that with his skin bared and his golden hair burning brightly beneath the rising sun that he looked as pagan as the pict warriors so feared in the north._

_His men cheered loudly for him and amidst the roar the wolves had come, their sleek bodies slipping out of the mists to stand beside the mounted men, their scent frightening the horses of the Emperors men._

_Then King Arthur raised his hand for silence, and is remembered as saying:_

“ _My brothers, men whom I love, today you fight for our home. Though we are greatly outnumbered, never forget that great courage is as powerful as great numbers."_

_Arthur’s men raised their swords high crying out “For country and for King!” and all around the hills had resounded with the sound of wolf song._

_The Romans, at the call of the trumpet, rushed forward and the two great armies clashed together. Britons and Romans fought side by side in a clamor of blood and dust, the screams of the dead and dying nearly drowned out by the pounding of feet and armor._

_In all of the stories it is agreed that all the knights fight bravely but none so much as Arthur and his champion Sir Lancelot. Lancelot having slayed a score of men and having just slain Lucius’ champion, a man likened to a giant, became weary and stumbled. He would have died at the hands of his enemy had Arthur not leaped to his rescue, becoming a great white wolf with the flame of Excalibur burning within his gaze and torn out the throat of his attacker._

_The emperor seeing such a sight said:_

“ _This Arthur is a demon and not a man! I will fight with him myself." And before any can stop him, he engaged the great white wolf._

_The two men began to fight and Lucuis proved to be a strong and fierce warrior. Arthur, despite merging with Excalibur, did not seem to be driven by the same fury that drove the emperor. He tried too long to subdue Lucius without killing him, calling to the mans sense of reason._

_But then Lucuis slashed his sword across Arthur’s snout, cutting deep. And with a victorious cry he is said to have shouted, “I will drive you and your lot back into hell!”_

_And Arthur, with a roar of fury, sprang forward before the emperor could blink, so swiftly and so fiercely that Lucius only had time to bring his sword part of the way up to graze against Arthur’s soft belly as the great wolfs jaws clamped around his head and crushed, yanking it savagely from his fragile neck._

_When the Romans near by saw that their ruler was dead, they gave a great cry of grief and rushed upon Arthur, but a circle of wolves formed around him, bloodied and fearsome._

_At last the Romans surrendered._

_And as Arthur, once more on two feet, walked amongst the dead he found among his prisoners three senators, and among the dead, sixty senators, sixteen kings, and the emperor. It is said he wept and held a service for the dead, granting the captured Roman soldiers their freedom and their leave to gather their dead so long as they never darkened Britain’s door again. Those men would go on to form what today is called the Holy Order of Hunters._

_There is one other account I must include here because this source is highly trusted and has no reason to tell a falsehood, though the ending I overheard hardly seems believable. I think my mother was simply trying to sooth my brother and make him feel better for being quick to cry. Our father was not a man who thought alphas should cry._

_It is said by some, that As Arthur stood amongst the bodies of the fallen, the blood of his kill dripping down his face, that he dropped his mighty sword with a shudder and fell to the ground as if all the strength had left his body at once. Swearing, sir Kay rushed to his side calling for Lancelot and Gawain’s help carrying their king back to his tent_.

_And there you see, even the bravest of men cries when he is wounded._

 

 

_*~*~*_

 

The kid would not stop staring at him. Not that Sebastian was overly bothered by a cub, the kid could stare all he liked, it was just strange wasn’t it? At that age Sebastian had hardly ever sat still, his mother had practically had to staple his paws to the floor to achieve it, but Benito Medici just trailed along behind the omega girl who had been tasked with watching him for the day and stared at Sebastian who trailed five paces behind them watching out for danger.

Security detail for a child and an omega house maid was hardly the most strenuous activity so he and Nick took turns “scouting the perimeter” or in Nick’s case running to find Jeff and be distracting.

He’d better get back soon. Sebastian hadn’t been gone nearly this long on his turn, whatever Nick said to the contrary, and sooner or later someone was going to get wise to the fact that they weren’t taking their job all that seriously.

But seriously, what was there to even worry about? The kid did nothing all day but sit and watch whatever-her-name-was-it’s-not-like-it-mattered and stare at Sebastian like he was trying to see through his soul.

‘ _Didn’t your mother teach you not to stare? It’s rude as fuck kid.’_

Benito jerked, nearly toppling over in surprise at hearing Sebastian’s voice so suddenly in his head and Sebastian smirked. He watched the cub right himself, staring warily at Sebastian as if he expected the older wolf to pounce. And for a split moment he wanted to, his lip curling with distaste as he thought about the Medici’s and all that they had done. But then he sniffed and that soft clean puppy scent filled his nose, and he grimaced.

Murdering cubs was for cowards.

‘ _That’s a bad word.’_

Sebastian was the one to start this time, coming out of his head to find Benito’s blue eyes holding his, stern and disapproving.

‘ _Fanculo’_ Sebastian bit back with a sugared smile. Sebastian’s Italian was limited to telling people to fuck off and asking where the bathroom was, which was perfect because he only had one thing to say to the Medicis and he didn’t have to piss. The kid was only three though, and he doubted a princess like Medici’s daughter would have taught him something like that.

So you can forgive a guy for being taken back when a three-year-old cub with eyes as round as dinner plates clutching the grass like a life line narrowed his eyes at him and told him to to suck on his tits.

Sebastian could do nothing but blink and stare because he very much doubted Benito even knew what tits were.

‘ _Mama wasn’t such a princess after all,’_ he mused battling a grin and Benito’s glower darkened.

‘ _Don’t talk about mama!’_

‘ _Why ever not?’_ Sebastian drawled because yeah, he felt awkwardly bad for the motherless boy whose mother he’d tried to kill, but hell if he’d let some cub tell him where to go.

‘ _Not supposed to talk to strangers. It’s bad. I was bad before an she left. She won’t come back if I keep be’en bad, so go away!’_

Benito face flushing red with furry, little hands tearing at the grass where he sat as the omega girl continued about her chores, turned away from him but not before Sebastian caught the tears welling in his eyes. The smile slipped from the alpha’s face.

Shit.

 

~*~*~

 

“ _How is he?” Lancelot whispered as he stepped into Arthur’s tent. Percival grunted, watching silently with Lancelot as Kay knelt beside Arthur’s pallet and stroked the kings shivering back. He was covered with sweat and blood, marks from battle, but it was not this sight but the sight of his eyes round and staring blankly into the distance that frightened Lancelot and the others._

_He got this way sometimes after battle. Shaking as if he could not get warm. His mind sinking somewhere none of them could reach._

“ _He is well enough.” Kay snapped back at them, cradling Arthur closer to his chest. When Arthur got this way Kay always tended to him like a mother hen, never leaving his side for a moment. If Lancelot had not seen it for himself he’d not have thought the man capable of such devotion._

“ _It is nothing rest wont fix. The sword takes it out of him.”_

_Lancelot and Percival said nothing, though Lancelot wondered if they both weren’t thinking the same thing._

_That wasn’t quite true. While Excalibur certainly drained Arthur, most of the time using it left him merely tired. This was different. This had every nerve in Lancelot’s body tight with the urge to assist and to protect, to press close to Arthur’s body to provide warmth and to lick the sweat from his skin and croon tender things until he stopped shaking as if he was going to shake apart._

_Not for the first time he wished Arthur would take him up on the suggestion to spend more time in Northumbria with the Pendragons. Besides being his kin they were all were-kin and knew their ways. True, they were insufferable about the fact that Arthur chose to surround himself with mortal men and converts but it was still the damnable truth that they all knew far more about being men than they did wolves._

_Lancelot was still learning what it meant to be a part of the were-kin. They all were, but even if it didn’t know what his wolf knew something was dreadfully wrong._

_It set his teeth on edge._

_In Kay’s arms Arthur flinched, burrowing deeper into his brothers embrace with a whimper. Kay looked up and glared at Lancelot._

“ _Don’t growl like that Dulac! You’re upsetting him.” Pressing his lips close to the King’s ear Lancelot heard him whisper. “He’s not angry at you. How could he be? You were magnificent, Arthur.”_

_Arthur slowly blinked, some semblance of life stirring behind his eyes at the praise and Lancelot’s heart twisted in his chest._

_He was just a boy, not even two rows of ten. Feeling like the worst sort of churl he cleared his throat, stepping closer despite Kay’s warning growl. If it was reassurance that Arthur needed then he’d give it. There was no shame in becoming sickened by war. He’d never let Arthur feel ashamed of the necessary horrors of warfare._

“ _You were indeed magnificent… I was proud to fight beside you.”_

_Proud of him. So so proud of him, Lancelot wanted to tell him, wanted to stroke the sweat slick hair from his eyes and tell him over and over until the misery had leeched from him and he was blooming with pride._

_Arthur blinked again, his eyes moving to find Lancelot and growing ever more clear. Percival stepped up beside him, and crouched so that he and Arthur were on eye level._

“ _Percy...” Lancelot’s heart thudded happily at the return of Arthur’s voice, small and weak, especially compared to the giant of a personality he’d been only hours before, but it was there. “Did I… did I do well?”_

“ _You’ve just freed Britain from the Romans Arthur,” Percival laughed in relief. “I’d say you’ve done very well.”_

“ _You are a mad man Arthur MacMurchadha,” Kay hugged him fiercely. “But by god you did it! Rome is beaten… the world is yours.”_

_And Arthur nestled safely in his brothers arms, surrounded by the men who loved him, smiled and said softly:_

“ _We’re going to build a better world.”_

_And they would. Lancelot could feel it._

 


	6. I'll stand by you.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

>  
> 
> __  
> Oh, truth—I guess truth is what you believe in  
>  And faith—I think faith is having a reason  
> And I know now, love, if your wings are broken  
> Borrow mine 'til yours can open, too  
> 'Cause I'm gonna stand by you  
> Even if we're breaking down  
> even if we can't find heaven  
> I'll walk through hell with you.  
> ~Stand By You, Rachell Platen  
> 
> 
> Kurt takes the first steps outside of the forest that anyone in the pack has taken since the night the MacTere attacked. Wes is not amused by that stunt Blaine pulled, putting Kurt in charge, and definitely does not think he should be risking his mate this way. Kurt thinks he's the only man for the job and is determined to help his new family the best way he can. Wes is pretty sure Kurt is too new and too reckless not to get himself killed while Blaine is pretty sure another war is coming. If there's one thing that Wes and Kurt can agree on its that they'll be at Blaine's side come hell or high water. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: This chapter officially introduces Melwas or "Myla", a trans character who I've been very excited to flesh out in this universe. Now is that time :) It is always my best to do these characters justice and to be sensitive to the real life persons whom they reflect. I ask for only your graciousness and patience. We meet her very briefly in this chapter but later segments will greater explore her. There may be an issue with some pronoun confusion here as Melwas is born and raised as a male and likewise is addressed as such by everyone in Arthur's court but Lady Morgana who has the unique ability to see her in her truest form and recognizes her as a female entity.

~8~

Kurt met the small party of wolves he was taking into town with him out by the front steps. Adam and Noelle had already pulled the van around and were standing with Wes, talking quietly, their protégés at their sides. Sugar and Chandler seemed unusually subdued but it had been an odd morning, and he was seeing more and more what Blaine meant by the Alpha’s mood effecting the entire pack. Wes looked grave as Kurt approached, and there was something faintly disapproving to his expression.

 

He wasn’t sure what the other beta disapproved of, whether it was his decision to throw open the doors of their den and start cleaning house without preparing Blaine, or Blaine’s decision to heap a responsibility on Kurt that would place him in danger outside of the pack’s reach. Knowing Wes though, it was likely both. And while Kurt could see his point, he also knew there wasn’t another way to go about this.

 

While he’d never expected Blaine to put him in charge of something so crucial so fast, he couldn’t complain about it either (even if it struck him as funny, because really he’d have been content with fight lessons in a safe controlled environment).

 

“Matcă.” Wes greeted with a small respectful nod when Kurt was standing before him. “As soon as the others get here you’ll be good to go.”

 

“There are no others,” Kurt informed him, bracing himself for the hard stare the beta wolf gave him. Blaine had wanted to send them with a legion of guards, but he’d put Kurt in charge of navigating their ventures into the human landscape, and Kurt knew the golden rule of not attracting attention was small numbers.

 

“Ten of us go into town and we’re an army. Even five is one too many in my opinion,” he explained. Five had been the best compromise he could get Blaine to agree on.

 

Rather than argue Wes’ brown eyes darted to Noelle and Adam, pinning both alphas as his irises flashed a hot gold.

 

“You’re not to leave his side. You remain with him at all times.” And the dominance the Beta-Major of pack Westerville could emote in so few words, had Kurt’s back straightening and stiffening all at once.

 

He had to bite his tongue before he snapped something about not being a child, because it only would have emphasied his lack of control and the other beta’s authority. And that was the real tangle between them. Wes was Beta-Major. He had the right as well as the responsibility to give them all orders and to see to the well being of his Alpha’s mate.

 

But Kurt was more than just Blaine’s mate. He was their Matcă, and if that was ever going to mean anything real he’d have to make it so.

 

“Chandler and Sugar are staying with me,” he corrected in as level a tone as he could manage, refusing to flinch as Wes’ intense stare turned back on him, the other beta waiting silently for him to go on with an expression so unamused it could have curdled milk.

 

Wes blinked, and without so much as a twitch suddenly there was a pressure building in Kurt’s head, pushing downon his shoulders. Though he’d only felt it a few times Kurt was familiar now with the more supernatural end of lycan dominance. It was like becoming aware of an invisible chain, coiled around his limbs, running through the pack bond, and they were dragging his head down.

 

This urge to kneel, to lay down on his belly and lower his head and relieve the horrible weight around his neck, left him with only two choices: to submit or break his chains.

 

Blaine was unusually quiet, though Kurt felt him close and knew that he was watching through the bond. The others remained silent and still, hardly daring to breath as they watched the confrontation. Kurt might have laughed at the horrified way Chandler was gaping at the two of them if it didn’t take so much effort not to buckle underneath the weight of Wes’ dominance.

 

“That’s not what I ordered.”

 

Wes said it simply, as if he had no need for a harsh rebuke when he expected to be completely understood and immediately obeyed.

 

The effort to keep his head up was so strenuous he ached all the way down his back, but Kurt did not let his gaze waver. He ignored the sweat beading on his brow and the burning in his legs, returning the Beta-Major’s words with the barest of nods.

 

“I know,” he said in answer and one of the beta wolf’s dark eyebrows arched high.

 

“And yet you still have something to say I take it?” Wes asked, something wry but tired in his tone and Kurt smiled, though given the pain he was in it looked something more of a grimace.

 

“Wes, we left town after a blood bath and they’ve had weeks to stew. We don’t know what we’re walking into, and I was given this task because out of all of us I know how humans think best. With Adam and Noelle dogging my every step, clearly set to prevent anyone from so much as breathing on me it’s going to prompt questions we aren’t going to want to answer. I can defend myself, and where I lack experience Chandler and Sugar can fill the gaps. Adam and Noelle are better served watching our backs and rushing to the rescue if something goes wrong.”

 

For what felt like an age they continued to stare at one another. Kurt feared Wes wasn’t going to let up unless he broke- which Kurt knew would have happened if not a moment too soon Wes hadn’t broken eye contact with him and taken the weight of his dominance with him. The pressure was gone so swiftly that it left Kurt’s head spinning. He weaved on his feet and was thankful for Noelle’s steadying hand settling gently on his back, the she-wolf did not turn to look at him.

 

“You’re the party leader Kurt.” Wes said as he reached into his pocket. When he’d withdrawn his hand he extended it, offering a small black object with an air of solemnity better suited to someone’s funeral than a trip to the grocery store. “I won’t undermine that authority, but just remember when you take unnecessary risks with your life, you risk far more than just your own.”

 

“I’ll remember,” he offered in reply, a stubborn tilt to his chin. He refused to be chastised when he was in the right here and these lycans wanted it both ways. He had to be dominant and strong, fight for his rank, but he also had to be a docile and submissive mate and not risk the baby.

 

Though he’d kept the thoughts to himself he suspected Wes had guessed at what he was thinking because that wry if tired expression was back as he pressed what turned out to be a credit card into his hands. Kurt had seen it once before. Blaine had given it to him before his things had been brought, to fill the house he’d gifted him on Cherry Street. The black AmEx card was weightier than any other card he’d ever held, its glossy opal surface etched in strange numbers and lines of code. There was one slight difference.

 

The card Blaine had given him before had not been engraved with letters that spelled ‘Kurt E. Hummel’.

 

He stared at it for far too long, a small smile curling his lips as he traced the flowing letters. He didn’t know much about Blaine’s finances or how he ordered them, but he did know that cards like this were not easy to come by any means. Blaine must have had it made for him long before this moment, long before Kurt had ever agreed to mate with him.

 

“He was hopeful,” Wes confirmed, proving Kurt’s suspicion about guessed thoughts.

 

One thing still bothered Kurt however.

 

“Why doesn’t it say Anderson?”

 

And this time, when Wes’ gaze pinned his it was with censure, decrying him for a fool who should have known better.

 

“Because it’s yours, Kurt. It’s yours whatever you choose to do with it.”

 

 

~*~*~

 

_Lady Morgana first encountered Melwas the knight of the summer country in a strange way; some even say a fated way. After helping Arthur negotiate a peace with Breidi king of the Picts on the behalf of Rome the young king had offered her all manner of riches and material things by way of reward. Morgana had saved the life of a king and ended a war, she by rights could have asked Arthur for his very life, as it was owed to her; but Morgana had no use for Arthur’s life, as interesting as she found the wolf living within him, and she had no use for material possessions or grand titles._

 

_What good were lands and titles? Gold alone would not erase the fear she saw in the eyes of Arthur’s soldiers or the whispers that followed her steps. For as greatly as she was respected for her gifts and how she had chosen to use them, she was not a fool, she knew that the love of men was fickle. Theirs was a respect that would quickly sour into envy and hatred. She did not belong in this relm, and by rights should return to Avalon._

 

_She knew this and yet… it had been so grand. To take the wine with a warrior king and battle wits, to traverse hell itself and come out the other end, to look into the bleary blue eyes of a comrade and see the evidence of their courage, their strength, in the flush of his cheeks and to know that they had cheated death? It had been a grand adventure, but Nimue was always telling her that adventures must end._

 

_The way that Sir Kay looked at her, as if wished to slide a knife between her ribs and was only waiting for permission told her that it was enough. It was best that the adventure end and that she return to Avalon where she belonged. And if there was an insidious voice inside that insisted on reminding her that she was a babe born in blood and rooted to this earth just as any other, that she too had a place in this world… well it was just going to have to be wrong._

 

_Only, as any who knows what happened to the Great Lady know, the voices were not wrong. For when Arthur and his men tried to escort the Lady to the lake within an enchanted forest she could not go home._

 

_On that day she’d said her goodbyes to Lancelot, and wished his king farewell. Arthur had asked once more if she would stay, if there was not anything that could hold her to the world of men, and for a moment she’d allowed herself to imagine and to remember her mother and the village of her birth._

 

_Who might she have been if the Merlin had not come for her and brought her to Avalon? Who might Morgana of Sath have been if she had never looked into the well and met the crone, if she had not been offered the world and warned against trying to hold it?_

 

_Would she have friends? A lover? A child of her own? A life full of color and adventure… Would a golden haired king still look at her so, as if his sun rose and set with her?_

 

_It did not bear thinking on. It did no good to wonder where the past might have led her or where her future might take her if she was fool enough to wander off the path that had been set for her. She knew this..._

 

_So on that day she’d said goodbye, but when she had stepped into the waters of the lake she had gone still, the clear water lapping at her bare ankles, drenching the hem of her skirts and simply stared out into the mist unmoving._

 

_Avalon was still and silent beyond the mists. It no longer called to her. And it was then that lady Morgana had known for certain that home was no longer before her but behind._

 

_After a time she had turned back toward Arthur and returned to him. And there were many who speculated over what had made the lady change her mind, what had led her to turn and make her way back to Arthur who had lingered just behind the others to watch as the mists swallowed her._

 

“ _She’s a witch,” Kay would often grumble. “Does she need a reason?”_

 

_Morgana, lonely in Arthur’s court when neither he nor Lancelot was around, often wondered the same. Why had she ever left Nimue and the magic that ruled her blood for this cold castle full of fearful souls? These men of earth and soil feared everything they could not control. They were as trembling sheep: sheep with the teeth of wolves._

 

_Lancelot and Arthur were the only ones she could bear, but they were hardly mere men. Lancelot was a friend of Avalon, her brother, and Arthur... Arthur was a light in a dreary realm… a sweetness in a tasteless world. Lancelot warned her that it was improper but Morgana hardly cared. Arthur was a sweet man, and a good friend. He did not fear her as the others did. If anything he was in awe of her._

 

_She’d never been awed before. She found she quite liked it._

 

_She was musing on just that feeling and the state of her loneliness the day she came upon Melwas. She was coming from the king’s rooms having been fetched to tend to a wound he’d attained sparring with the men, when she happened upon Sir Kay having some sort of tryst just down the corridor. The woman in his arms was dressed in the attire of a serving wench, her hair so pale a blond it was nearly white and her eyes a bright summer blue._

 

_Years later some would ask how it was that she had seen the truth behind Melwas’ disguise and yet had never suspected that Gwyn was anything but the woman he had pretended to be._

 

_Perhaps her jealousy had helped to blind her, but more simply in the case of Melwas ‘the strange’ like had recognized like._

 

_She’d not seen or felt any magic but her own since they’d left Breidi’s camp all those moons ago, so it had come as a shock to turn a corner and suddenly feel it fluttering about her like a million butterfly wings and to see it clinging to the skin of the beautiful young man standing just at the end of the hall, locked in a heated embrace with Kay._

 

_And Melwas was indeed a young man beneath that glamor. At least in body. In soul… well in soul she was as beautiful as the woman she was bewitching Kay to see. But her magic was not strong enough to bewitch Morgana’s eyes. The young woman knew it too, for when Kay broke away from her lips at the sound of Morgana’s footfalls and they both looked up to find her watching them, the young woman paled as white as a ghost._

 

_Morgana had smiled kindly at the young girl, ignoring Kay’s hateful stare as she continued past them._

 

_Nimue had told her there were other children of Avalon like her. Lancelot’s mother had been one, but it was hard for Morgana to remember it having never met anyone else like her before. Human, born of the earth, but so far above it that she might as well be the daughter of stars._

 

_A witch._

 

_She’d practically skipped back to her rooms to fetch her other needles (she was going to mend Arthur’s shirt where the blade had torn it and he was going to read to her while she worked, as it was the only way to keep the stubborn fool abed while his stitches set) because at last, she had a sign that she’d made the right choice that day at the edge of the lake._

 

_Her heart had told her that her path was behind her, with the young man mounted on the white horse. Her future was uncertain but now she knew one thing for sure: she was not alone._

 

~*~*~*~

 

No sooner had he shut the doors to Blaine’s study had Wes crossed the room to the small tubed television set nestled within the bookshelf. Grabbing the tiny silver remote from atop its dusty surface he’d flicked the thing on without so much as an explanation besides a grunted, “You need to see this.”

 

He’d settled on a news station where a smartly dressed reporter was standing near the steps of a brick building. Behind her, just barely visible, was the tail of a dark brown stain. He tensed as he recognized the sight for what it was: blood, dried and stained, smeared down the stone steps of the local university. CNN had chosen its backdrop to make a statement.

 

“ _We’re standing outside Otterbien University in the small town of Westerville Ohio, where weeks ago a a dispute between rival werewolf gangs turned deadly for the students of this small college town, resulting in five critical injuries, over twenty eight deaths and three missing students. Two of the missing students have since been located and taken into medical care for serious injuries. The remaining student, a college junior by the name of Ryder Lynn, remains unfound. His parents along with the citizens of Westerville are demanding answers for this tragedy, but are disturbed by the lack of action from local government.”_

 

Blaine gritted his teeth as a thin balding man with a square jaw appeared on screen, his arm around a reedy looking woman with features so gaunt it was easy to see the blue of her veins beneath her sallow skin. Wes watched silently beside him as the woman, gazing despondently back at the reporter shoving a microphone to her face, began to speak.

 

“ _I need to find my son. Ryder has epilepsy… it’s very important that he take his medication. Please, if you find him, don’t hurt him. He doesn’t mean any harm. He’s a good boy-”_

 

Blaine flinched as the camera cut away from the woman’s distressed pleas to a shot of the father standing alone, staring seriously into the camera.

 

“ _What has been done here is nothing less than terrorism. We’re being told that the police are investigating. Investigating what? They live right there, in that wood. We all know what happened. What is to investigate? Those creatures have been given impunity, and the police barricades are not there to keep us safe. They’re keeping good men and women who fear for their lives, and want justice for their loved ones, from punishing those responsible. And maybe it’s not right for us to take the law into our own hands. But what I and every other parent who has lost a child to this unspeakable crime wants to know is, when are we going to get a government as worried about protecting us as it is those animals?”_

 

Blaine clenched his hand into a fist, sharp nails scratching into the skin of his thigh. He barely noticed the pain, focused as he was on watching through Kurt’s eyes as he and his small band made their way through the grocery store in Westerville.

 

The dirt road their vehicles used when they had to make use of them winded behind the house, around the lake and out of the forest at three different points like a fork of lightning, each entrance overgrown and hidden from human eyes by light spell work. They were lucky that the police barricade could not effectively surround the entire forest and that not all the entrances had been blocked.

 

Kurt and the others had departed and made it safely out of the forest by the furthest exit but they were far from out of danger. The public atmosphere was worse than he’d expected, the words coming out of the reporters mouth painting a clear picture of what was likely to come. The humans did not want to hear their apologies or their assurances that something like last month would never happen again (even if Blaine could have guaranteed such a thing). They were afraid and they wanted the source of that fear removed.

 

“… _tragedy in Westerville has sparked debate across the country. New York Senator, Patrick Riley, issued a statement following the event ….”_

 

There was a clip filling the screen now of a middle aged man beginning to grey at the temples. He was fair haired, blue eyed, all-american the way that screamed at a future in politics. His posture was laden with the weight of leadership but there was an unmistakable hardness to the glint in his eyes as he addressed a crowd of onlookers.

 

“ _My heart goes out to the families of the victims. Know that you are not alone in your heartbreak, or your horror, and that your nation stands behind you asking the same questions of its government. When do we say enough?”_

 

Another clip, this time of the handsome senator crossing a room crowded with officials guiding the arm of another man. Blaine tensed as he recognized the squat balding figure of Victor George, Westerville’s mayor. The senator was leading the mayor towards a sharply dressed man whom Blaine would have easily mistaken for one of the dozen other officials crowding the hall if not for the tiny red cross pinned to his breast. A seemingly simple ornament, flashing coldly under the lights, but Blaine knew what it stood for, and what it would mean for their future.

 

Kurt’s essence drew closer, drawn by his spike of anxiety, and Blaine’s vision blurred replacing the television with a long row of vegetables at a grocery store, and Chandler’s hand thrusting a bunch of carrots toward him with a dubious expression.

 

Blaine blinked, clearing the vision away, coming back to himself as Kurt softly called his name.

 

‘ _Blaine, honey are you okay?’_

 

‘ _I’m worried about you.’_ He admitted his teeth gritting as Wes flicked the television to mute. The Beta didn’t say anything, waiting patiently as if he knew that Blaine was communicating with his mate. _‘It’s not safe.’_

 

‘ _It was never going to be safe.’_ Kurt reminded him gently. _‘I have human I.D. and a cover story if we’re questioned, plus I know how they think. You said it yourself, I’m the best person for this job. You said you trusted me to do this.’_

 

‘ _Yes, but that was before I knew the mayor was meeting with Hunters.’_ Blaine thrust the memory of Mayor George shaking hands with that man from the Hunters Order into Kurt’s mind, his anxiety only increasing with his mates distance. He couldn’t pull Kurt to safety or shield him with his body the way that he wanted to, the way the wolf _demanded_ , because Kurt was outside, out of reach, gallivanting about town on a fools errand when the town could be crawling with Hunters already.

 

‘ _We’ll be careful,’_ Kurt did not sound worried, not the way he should have been and Blaine growled in irritation. ‘ _Blaine we look as human as anyone else. It’s not like they can smell it on us. We need supplies one way or another or we’re going to starve out of the forest. Nothing has changed. You need to trust me.’_

 

Blaine breathed out an aggravated breath, closing his eyes briefly. He didn’t like it, but Kurt was right. The food and supplies were too important to abandon just because he wanted his mate out of danger. Not when it had been his idea in the first place to place him there.

 

It was the curse of being the Alpha couple. On the one hand Blaine adored Kurt, loved his courage and the softness that wrapped around innate ferocity.

 

And on the other hand, none of it mattered. Blaine simply never wanted him in danger, and the wolf was in wholehearted agreement.

 

Kurt was his mate. He’d only _just_ found him, and he was carrying their cub. He should be in their den, tucked away safely where the pack could protect him.

 

But the pack had to come first. That was their role, their honor, and he was beyond lucky to have found this man who loved him enough to undertake such a burden when he didn’t have to, when it had meant leaving everything else behind.

 

Because Blaine could see well enough the pieces of the puzzle falling into place, how almost providential it was to have found this particular man at just this time when his enemies were closing in and the goodwill of humans could no longer be depended upon. He needed Kurt to be exactly as brave and as capable as he knew him to be and the lingering echos of the news cast only intensified the feeling he had, that Kurt was going to be the key instrument in their fight for survival.

 

‘ _I’ll always fight for you, Blaine,’_ Kurt promised, and Blaine’s heart ached in his chest, full to bursting with a fierce pride and an even fiercer yearning.

 

‘ _Fight well.’_

 

Though he knew the current risk to Kurt and his party was minimal the words felt right. Blaine slowly released his breath and backed away from their connection his vision blurring once more and then slowly refocusing on the room around him.

 

Wes, standing beside the desk with his hands clasped tightly behind his back, watched him carefully, a small sigh puffing past his lips when Blaine’s eyes opened again to meet his.

 

“He’s not coming back I take it?” the beta asked and Blaine shook his head.

 

“He’s where he needs to be.”

 

Wes’ lips thinned into a tight line and the beta looked away, and Blaine could feel his displeasure pressing heavily against their bond despite his decision not to speak.

 

“Wes you might as well just say it,” Blaine prompted with an exasperated roll of his eyes because Wes knew there was no point in holding anything back from the other, not with how intimately they were bonded.

 

“Many of the elders are questioning your decision to use him this way. I’m sure they’d argue that where your pregnant mate needs to be is in your den.”

 

“I’m aware,” Blaine sighed. “What do _you_ think?”

 

“I think you’re risking too much too fast.” Wes confessed slowly, though his gaze was no less steady. The challenge in his words frank and quiet. “It’s grocery shopping today but tomorrow it will be tangling with the government, you literally gave him that task and I can’t fathom why, when Kurt’s life is tied to yours and on top of that he’s carrying your heir. Our _entire_ future Blaine. He’s months old! I get that he wants to help, and that you need to make him happy, but this was _not_ the way. I wish you’d have consulted me first.”

 

Blaine pressed his lips together tightly, barely suppressing the growl rumbling lowly in his chest. It wasn’t like and Wes had never disagreed before; but there was something different now, something unspoken lurking just under the surface that neither of them felt safe acknowledging, nor could they shake.

 

“Do you think I’m placating Kurt by giving him this task?”Blaine asked, leaning towards Wes with an incredulous expression, the bite of indignation in his tone and Wes rolled his eyes.

 

“Blaine, lets not act as if you haven’t proven that when it comes to Kurt you’d chew off your own arm if it made him happy. Your courtship was the most unorthodox, ill advised, frankly suicidal, shit show I’ve ever witnessed.”

 

“I won didn’t I? Kurt was never going to want me, or accept his place here if it wasn’t a hundred percent his decision. I had to give him a choice Wes.”

 

“And you’d have _died_ Blaine if Kurt had been a little less brave with his choices.”

 

“But he is brave, Wes,” Blaine reminded him with a snap of teeth. “He did choose me, the only way he was ever going to: that’s with full knowledge and full consent that I wasn’t going to force him into it just because I fell in love with him first. I took that risk, because I knew who he was, Wes, good and kind and so damn _brave._ He’s a wolf. He was always meant to be one of us. And now that he is, I can’t ask him to be less than what he is.”

 

Standing, Blaine pushed his hair back from his brow and turned his back to face the window with an aggravated breath. It was a mark how intimately he trusted the beta wolf, that even whilst being challenged he felt safe to do so. And Wes just waited, as he always did, for Blaine to sort himself and help him to understand. Blaine took a deep breath and tried to do just that.

 

“You saw it. Things are quickly going in a direction that we’re just _not_ prepared for. This place has been a safe-zone for hundreds of years. What do you imagine happens if the U.S. Government decides to take that away?”

 

“The Hunters come after us.” Wes acknowledged. “But we’re protected by more than just human law. The enchantments on the land can’t be broken.”

 

“If the government decides we’re too dangerous they will give the Hunters the right to try and wipe us out. The enchantments won’t matter Wes because they will never stop _hunting_ us. We’ll be surrounded with nowhere to go and no one to reach out to for help. It has happened in Europe and it can happen here. That,” Blaine pointed to the muted television, “is the end of our world as we know it and not just here. It will ripple. It already has.”

 

For a moment neither of them spoke, watching as images of protesters with signs painted with hateful fords mingled with the bright yellow of caution tape and the rusted brown of blood stains on the pavement.

 

“You’re right.” Wes, conceded after a long moment. “You need him. You’ll do this no matter what I think.”

 

Though Wes was not looking at him Blaine’s throat tightened with sadness because somewhere within those words was buried another meaning.

 

“It’s what needs to be done,” Blaine nodded solemnly in agreement and it was he who waited this time, allowing Wes the privacy of his own thoughts as he gathered himself, though his heart ached for his friend.

 

After a long moment Wes turned to look at him once more, his lips quirking in a sad little smile.

 

“I see,” he said softly, a wealth of weight to the words.

 

He could only stand there, helpless, as his oldest friends walls began to crumble and a keen throbbing ache took up residence in his chest with the insistence of an untended wound.

 

Blaine moved around the desk and closed the space between them, grasping Wes by the back of the neck and pulling the other man in close. As the beta pressed their skulls together with a low whine and the warm skin of his brow brushed against Blaine’s the alpha shuddered the tension releasing from his body in a rush, leaving his limbs tingling and his eyes suspiciously stinging. He clenched his teeth.

 

“I really hope I’m wrong.” Wes whispered between them. “That he’s everything you need and more. Everything you deserve, Alpha, because you deserve a true mate… and now that you have him I won’t let you lose him. No matter what it costs Blaine, I’ll always fight for you.”

 

Blaine knew it was true, knew that Wes would die, and die to himself a thousand times over in his service to his Alpha, in service to _him_ and the love that he bore. It was humbling, to the edge of ruin, how much this man had given him over the years. Blaine let the tears flow as they would, because it was the least he could do in the face of such open grief, the ache emanating from his center like a wailing wind.

 

It was the first time he’d allowed their bond to open this way since the aftermath of the battle. He didn’t hide behind walls any longer, allowing Blaine to feel every shuttered beat of his broken heart. They’d always needed to be so strong, and Blaine had been forced to meet his own seemingly insurmountable challenges… he’d been so wrapped up in that he’d almost forgotten that Wes was beta. There was a submissive shade to his psychology that needed to be held just this way, reached just this way. Blaine wondered if Wes had allowed anyone to dominate him since he was a teenager.

 

And now Blaine could see just what a toll this role had taken on him and how negligent he’d been in his friends welfare. Wes was stubborn and independent, but he should have pushed him more, to have a life outside of his duties, to form the attachments he needed to feel secure.

 

Because the beta was terrified deep down, terrified that he’d never again have the chance to feel what he’d started to feel for Emma, that he’d grow old and slowly lose himself to the wolf even more than he already had, alone with only the wildness while he looked on at the happiness of others.

 

Wes flinched as if he could feel Blaine’s eyes peering into his soul but Blaine grabbed a hold of him and held on tightly.

 

“You won’t go rogue,” Blaine promised him, so thankful for his fortune for once, being born when he was born, for having been blessed with such a friend to walk through life with. “I fight for you too you know. You’re straying right here where you belong and everything is going to be fine.”

 

Because he didn’t care what else happened. As long as it was in his power Wes was never going to be alone.

 

Wes nodded, closing his eyes briefly as he soaked in the assurance that Blaine offered and the warmth of his hands, before he huffed a laugh and pushed himself out of Blaine’s arms with a heatless growl.

 

“Don’t be stupid, Blaine” Wes lectured, all business once more, straightening his collar. “You have no time to worry about me. If the humans turn against us you’re right about one thing, the packs are going to need to come together. If it ends up being man against wolf we can’t be divided. We should go over our strategy for the alhunt.”

 

And Blaine knew that Wes was shutting the door once more on his own vulnerability but there was nothing to do but let him.

 

~*~*~

 

“C-can I help you?”

 

It was not so unusual a question for a teenaged clerk, especially in a busy grocery store when the customer in question was navigating several carts and a huge list, clearly involved in some sort of shopping extravaganza. What got Kurt’s attention was the boy’s nervousness: the squish and squelch of his sweaty palms, the musk of him as he perspired, the rapid thudding of his heart in his ribcage like a frightened rabbit. It made Kurt’s nose twitch, something cousin to hunger sing through his blood as the wolf perked to attention. The boy was trembling like prey.

 

Every line of his body was poised to flee at the slightest movement from either Kurt or one of his teenage helpers, and to be this frightened it meant that on some level the boy must know he was prey and in the presence of beasts who hunted. That and this was the second person who had asked them in under two minutes. Kurt wrinkled his nose, and shoved away the impulse to bare his teeth at the kid and perked his ears, straining to hear past the teenager’s heavy breathing, the thunderous thud of her heart beat (and the soft rapid flutter of a much tinier pulse) just in time to catch the fading whispers from the other end of the isle.

 

“… But who are they? They’re buying a lot. Who could need all that?”

 

“I think I’ve seen the blond one before, at that cafe in town… you don’t _really_ think…. I mean do you?”

 

Kurt tuned the whispers out having heard all he’d needed to hear, smiling stiffly at the clerk, sent by his coworkers no doubt to speed them along.

 

“No thank you, we’re nearly done” he assured the young man gesturing back toward his companions, who were in the middle of bickering over a box of vitamins. Quinn had given him a list of supplements she’d needed to replenish her stores as well as the prenatal ones she’d recommended for him and the other carriers. He could see the clerks eyes widening further as behind him Sugar swept an entire row of little pink boxes into the cart with an exaggerated motion of the arm and a toss of her brown hair. Kurt cringed, sending the protégé a silent rebuke.

 

Normal people did _not_ shop that way.

 

“We’re fine.” Kurt said again, with an attempt at humor. “Local charity, teen mothers: they eat like horses.”

 

The clerk blinked rapidly in surprise, mouth gaping as if the thought had derailed him.

 

“Oh… oh yeah” the boy murmured, to which Kurt gifted him with a winning smile. The boy flushed and sidled away like a sand crab, mumbling something about calling if they needed anything. As soon as he was out of earshot Kurt turned to Chandler and Sugar, gesturing for them to follow. As he made his way toward the front he called out over the bond to the others.

 

“ _We need to go, quickly. There might be trouble.”_

 

Barely a breath had gone by before he felt Noelle and Adam drawing closer, both alphas on alert. Noelle was outside keeping an eye on their exits and Adam was strolling through the isles somewhere behind them, guarding their back. They would likely be fine, but Kurt didn’t want to take any chances.

 

Kurt slipped a hand into the pocket of his shorts, fingers clenching along the cool leather of his wallet. It contained his license and his credit cards, including the heavy opal AmEx card that Wes had given him.

 

Brushing the raised numbers he became nervous, wondering suddenly if it might not be traceable. Maybe he’d seen too many spy movies, but wasn’t that the reason he was the leader? Kurt was the one raised on such things, who knew enough about the police system to even think about the fact that they could follow credit transactions. Kurt didn’t know how Blaine kept his finances but if he was registered anywhere it was a possibility that the police could very well be watching his bank account, waiting to arrest him or those connected with him.

 

He slowed his step, heart thudding fearfully.

 

‘ _I can send back up,’_ Blaine assured him with a level of pressed that let Kurt know that he was already in motion and nothing that he could say was likely to stop the alpha. Still, Kurt tried.

 

‘ _No. They’re suspicious and nervous, but nobody’s sure of anything. If you come in guns blazing it’ll be another blood bath. Let me handle this.’_

 

The sight that met them at the checkout isle was not promising. There was a uniformed guard lingering near the doors, his radio buzzing and beeping at intervals as he whispered back and forth with an invisible party.

 

The thing about that was Kurt’s hearing was now ten times better than the average human’s so he heard clearly when the voice on the other end said, “Do not approach until we have confirmation.”

 

The officer raised the radio to his mouth and whispered a quiet, “affirmative” and Kurt felt the wolf within him stir.

 

It was show time.

 

 

~*~*~*~

 

“ _Come on Kay, show him how it’s done!” Arthur shouted boisterously from beside her, along with the other knights gathered around the tourney ring in the practice yard. Her eyes immediately flew to his side, where she’d stitched him not two days ago and she glared reproachfully._

 

“ _If you bust my stitches hollering like a loon my lord I’ll have your head, king or no king,” she warned direly and Arthur grinned down at her exclaiming excitedly, “Tis fine, they’re gone already.”_

 

“ _What?! Oh you foolish boy, you’ll scar if-” Morgana screeched, reaching for his shirt to lift and inspect his side only to stop, aghast, as her hands wandered over warm smooth seamless flesh. With pinking cheeks he pulled his shirt down and his blue eyes lowered almost shyly as he shrugged._

 

“ _I’ve always healed quickly. Kay’s in fine form today. Are you not excited?”_

 

_Morgana knew evasion when she heard it but she could not press Arthur about it in public as they were, though she was loathe to give a damn except that it would embarrass Lancelot who was always lecturing her about living up to her title as a lady in the court._

 

_She looked back into the ring where Kay was sparring with a squire and making quite the meal of him. It didn’t help that the squire in question was quite besotted with the red haired knight (for some unknowable reason that Morgana had yet to suss out) and kept tripping over her own feet in her distraction._

 

_Morgana winced as Myla took a particularly hard blow to her breastbone, the clang of steal striking steal barely muffling the girls cry of pain._

 

“ _Pardon my saying so my lord, but your brother is a bully. That lad is no more than seven and ten, yet see him carry on as if he were defending his life against a seasoned warrior,” she grumbled in response, feeling sour for her young friend._

 

_Poor Myla. She hated when she was paired against Kay, for she hated to look even more foolish in front of the other knights than she already felt. Morgana’s little friend from Summer Country was a simple girl at heart, happiest in her books and helping Morgana with her herb garden. She was a scholar at heart, not a knight, but such was the path set for first born sons of noble houses. She had told her so, the first time that the girl had come to find Morgana in the garden. She'd been trembling and nervous, sure that the king's mysterious enchantress had seen her little trick with Kay and would report her to the crown as a charlatan and a sodomite._

 

_Morgana of course intended to do no such thing, but she had asked the younger woman why she should spare her, because if the woman had sought her out instead of running away then she must have felt there was a chance that she might not be turned in. Perhaps she had seen something in Morgana that the others hadn't? Only when the trembling squire had answered her, her words had come as something as a surprise._

 

_"I can run away and hide, I don't fear that milady..." the girl had confessed. "I have often thought I would be happier in a nunnery than sweating and bleeding in the mud. It's just that... Myla. I have played her so long, and Kay has become so fond of her. I could not leave him to wonder what became of her."_

 

_The girl was a fool for love and Morgana worried for her daily._

 

_Beside her Arthur, rather than take any offense at Morgana’s rancor, threw back his head and laughed._

 

“ _He can be a beast, aye” Arthur agreed amiably, and then with another of his strangely shy smiles he shrugged once more. “But he cares more than he lets on, about a great many things.”_

 

“ _Namely you,” Morgana pointed out. “The rest of us can hang.”_

 

_It was her greatest fear. She knew it to be true as Kay resoundingly beat the younger, smaller, squire into the dust to the resounding cheers of those gathered to watch the match._

 

_She watched solemnly as the red bearded knight reached down to help up the pale haired squire, practically oozing smugness as he preened._

 

_He did not see the way the girl shrank with shame or the flush of humiliation on her cheeks as she blinked back tears. He cared only that he had shown himself mighty and for the cheers of his comrades._

 

“ _Bah. You are not so mighty, Kay MacMurchdha” she muttered beneath her breath. “You can’t even see past your own nose.”_

 

“ _How do you mean?” Arthur asked, ever curious and Morgana winced, having forgotten how good his ears were._

 

_She hesitated, not because she feared any mortal king but because she knew that Arthur cared deeply for Kay and that what she had to say might wound him and for all that she detested his foul brother Morgana did not wish to wound Arthur._

 

“ _You can speak plainly with me milady without fear of retribution,” Arthur assured her kindly. “In fact, I prefer it when you do.”_

 

_There was a strange tingle in her belly, like ants crawling over her skin and she wrinkled her nose. What silliness. She should just out with it. Of all the foolishness: since when did she bite her tongue and heat her cheeks like a simpering maid for the likes of Arthur MacMuchadha? He was just a silly boy with a sword. She had held time itself within her hands!_

 

_And yet, she was careful as she formulated her reply._

 

“ _He cares so strongly for you that at times I am tempted to forget that in his soul he is like the dragons of old, covetous and vengeful. He knows the world only by what he can horde for himself, and thus he can not know love or ever truly return it. He is a dragon who knows nothing of true treasure or else he would take it when it is offered to him.”_

 

_She worried, as she always did, that her musings would be taken for a dire omen, that Arthur would reject her words (reject her) but the king just stood beside her, thinking quietly as he looked upon the other knights congratulating his foster brother, something sad passing through his eyes._

 

“ _We can’t choose how we are born Morgana. Only how we live. He is alone in the world, just as I was alone when fate thrust us together. And then for the longest time we were alone together.” Arthur answered after welt felt like an age, turning too beseech her with soft sad eyes, the love that he felt for his brother unhidden and offered up like a gift. “Is it wrong to have faith, that one day he will find someone to keep him and to be kept?”_

 

_Often times Morgana wondered at him. She had caught glimpses of him upon the battlefield, had watched him spar many an evening, watched him hold court here in Camelot and knew him to be brave and dynamic, a truly mighty force in this world and any other._

 

_He could take the world Arthur, shape it in his very image if he wanted to. He was a wolf among lambs and yet he lay with them as if her were one of them. There was a power in him, an aura that sang to her of his potential (of destiny unfolding before her eyes) but he had no ambition to do anything beyond what was necessary to make a home for his people and care for them._

 

_Where the world had made others hard he remained a constant source of comfort, where greed festered in abundance he sought only righteousness, where the world had made others darkly bitter he only grew in kindness._

 

“ _I think… my lord… that your faith, is a beautiful thing.” She admitted, only what she wanted to say was that he, Arthur, beautiful to her in every way, but she found her throat suddenly tight and the words dry on her tongue._

 

_Arthur smiled, not quite meeting her eyes, a faint pink rising to his cheeks. Morgana cleared her throat and stepped away from him. She was getting as bad as Myla mooning after the unattainable._

 

“ _I should see to Melwas” she said to herself as much as he, and Arthur hastily nodded in agreement though she saw something like regret flash through the blue of his eyes._

 

“ _Yes of course. Poor lad is probably black and blue.”_

 

_Nothing bruised so heavily as her heart, Morgana was sure._

 

_But that was the trouble with allowing your heart to rule you. The damnable things were so easily crushed._


	7. And nobody in all of Oz...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kurt's first mission paths the way for a future Blaine isn't quite willing to embrace which will see them tangling with the human government. But maybe this is the preferred path, considering other futures...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   
> _So if you care to find me, look to the western sky_  
>  As someone told me lately, everyone deserves a chance to fly.  
> And if I'm flying solo, at least I'm flying free.  
> To those who ground me, take a message back from me.
> 
>  
> 
> _Tell them how I am defying gravity.  
>  ~Defying Gravity, "Wicked"_

_There is a tale, only remembered by a few, of a King in the Summer Country who se wife had born but one son and struggled to produce more children . Fearful that her husband would put her aside the queen sought out the old crone , a witch, who sometimes told fortunes and was said to have the gift of great magic, to beg for a charm or a potion that would give her a child._

_“Why do want a child?” the witch had asked, quiet and expectant and the Queen had explained to her that she was lonely by herself in the castle. That her husband had no more use for her now that he had his heir and she could conceive no more._

_“He cares only for whores and hunting,” she complained and the witch had sneered._

_“You have a child already. One more than many women who wish fervently for issue. Why should the gods give you another?”_

_“I have a son,” the queen wept, “and all sons grow up to be men and no man can ever truly know a woman’s heart. I would have a daughter. I must have a daughter.”_

_The witch stared at the queen with a sad gaze, eyes a bright emerald with unshed tears._

_“I see. Aye a daughter you shall have, but will you know her when she comes?”_

_She gave the queen a bag of herbs ( root of yarrow, a shepherds purse, a pinch of nettle leaves, and with them she placed a strange milky nut, the seed of a tree not of this world ) and bid the queen to boil the bag in a pot of water and drink it’s contents before she next lay with her husband, and then surely she would be blessed with a child._

_But the witch also left her with a warning, that a child conceived in magic would always be foreign to this world and could never walk the path set for ordinary men. The queen insisted that she did not care, that she would love her girl no matter her look or her path._

_That summer amidst the swell of heat, when the kings horses raced over the hills, the queen gave birth to a beautiful child, pale and delicate as porcelain with eyes the color of their beloved summer skies._

_A prince._

_The queen wept and the crone was never seen in those parts again._

~*~*~

 

Kurt was resolved that their first venture out into the world was not going to end in more death. The cashier was nearing the end of their transaction and the officer had moved to conveniently block the exit, only shifting slightly to let the oblivious shoppers pass, never taking his eyes off of Kurt and his companions. Adam had moved to the front to stand feet from the unsuspecting man, pretending to peruse a rack of magazines.

Outside the doors Noelle had pulled the van up, but Kurt knew that there was police back up standing by and did not imagine that a police chase wouldn’t solve the pack’s immediate need for more food or do much to repair their reputation in the community, especially since they’d have to tear through this officer to do it and terrify a store full of shoppers.

 _“We’re coming for you”_ Blaine assured him once more and Kurt grit his teeth, maintaining an outward expression of calm as best he could.

 _“No. Please just trust me a little longer. I can do this.”_ He could get them all out of this safely and not fail his very first mission and have to be rescued by his mate. He couldn’t fail, not after all his brave words and the challenges he’d thrown with them, but in truth his heart was thumping painfully in his chest. The thought of getting the others hurt or worse was paralyzing now that it was down to the moment, the moment where they were all waiting for the orders to move and he was the one they were looking to.

“ _You can.”_ Blaine agreed, and Kurt was never more grateful than at that moment, that he and Blaine were so intimately tied because Blaine knew exactly what he needed; and despite his fears, he quieted everything else but his fervent belief in Kurt’s ability to take care of himself and his pack mates and wrapped him up in it like the warmest of blankets. _“Fight well.”_

No matter what fears hounded him the belief that Kurt could do whatever he set his mind to was so real, it was a bedrock for them to stand upon. And Kurt had to stand. He was _ready_ to stand.

Kurt took a deep breath. Releasing it slowly he forced his fearful thoughts to slow and consider their situation. Slowly the pieces began to come together.

“ _Adam, get to the van, Noelle get ready to drive. Chandler and Sugar, when I say go you take the supplies and get everything loaded and get out as fast as you can. Don’t linger here.”_

Chandler and Sugar cast alarmed glances in his direction, though they had presence of mind enough not to quickly get a handle on it and give no other outward signs that anything was amiss, though a chorus of protests invaded Kurt’s mind.

“ _Kurt, you can’t seriously intend to stay here? There’s only the one officer. I can get you out of here.”_ Adam protested. He hadn’t turned from the magazines but his back had gone ramrod straight. Kurt tried not to resent the implication that he couldn’t overpower the officer himself if he’d wanted to. He knew that wasn’t the point.

“ _There is never just one cop guys. Half my mission is to repair our relationship with the community. We get into another shoot out with the police and it’s just that much harder. We’ve got to play by their rules.”_ And Kurt knew the rules. He might still have a long way to go before he understood the lycan world but he knew the human one. He could play this game and win it.

“ _Officers are beholden to the law and the law is designed to protect citizens. I still have that protection. You guys aren’t even registered anywhere. They could do whatever they wanted to you and justify it. They have to justify hurting me so you’re going to get in the van like I ask and drive away and let me handle this.”_

“ _You’ll be stranded here Kurt.”_ Noelle’s quiet thought settled in all their minds like an omen, and Kurt felt the rising surge of aggression in Blaine rippling through them all, shaking their composure, and projected as much calm and certainty as he could to balance them. Blaine stayed silent, allowing him to choose, to lead, and he was grateful for that trust.

“ _I have a phone, not to mention a whole life outside of this one with people I can reach out to for help.”_ Two months in wonderland – or down the rabbit hole as he was sure his father would describe it – and Kurt had nearly forgotten that important fact for himself. Two months ago Kurt Hummel had been a completely different man. He was fine with that, but maybe he didn’t need to die altogether. Maybe what he needed to do was evolve.

“ _But Kurt-”_ Chandler protested, and Kurt pinned the younger wolf with a stare, pulling on the thread of control that he had only dared to a few times, careful not to put to much pressure on the younger beta if only because he knew that Chandler cared for him and it was not in any of their natures to leave one of the pack behind. But the baggers were shoving the last bags into their waiting carts and their cashier was rattling off the final tally and they were out of time. They had to move and Kurt, he had to lead them.

“ _Do as I say. Your mission is to get the supplies back and to make sure you aren’t followed.”_

“Sir?” the cashier called expectantly and Kurt turned to her, smiling easily with a confidence crafted from years on the stage.

“I’m sorry, it’s been a terribly long morning,” he apologized amiably as he fished for his credit card to swipe. Though he turned slightly toward Chandler and Sugar it was for her benefit that he gestured toward the door and suggested that they take their loaded carts and begin packing the car. More than one pair of eyes flicked nervously toward the cop blocking the door but Kurt was grateful when the teenage proteges did as he asked, doing their best to look nonchalant about it.

Kurt knew better. There was a high note of stress singing across his senses and Chandlers stiff walk betrayed the tension stringing him tight.

‘ _I’ll be fine’_ he promised once more.

‘ _You’d better be Kurt Hummel. I don’t want to kick a pregnant guys ass, but I totally will if you don’t come back in one piece.’_

The threat brought a genuine smile to Kurt’s face, no inconsiderable feat considering he’d just paid for over a grand in groceries and he could hear the police radio chirping to life as he signed the pin pad, the voice on the other end confirming they were to be stopped and brought in for questioning.

When the cashier thrust a miles long receipt his way he took it with a smile, as if he hadn’t heard that he was about to be arrested by the police and didn’t think it at all odd that the officer had moved to block the door and was holding up a hand to stall Chandler and Sugar in their tracks. Kurt quickened his step.

“Excuse me!” Sugar was snapping almost rudely as he approached. “We need to get by you.”

“Afraid I can’t do that miss, I need you and your friend to step over here to the right-” the officer was motioning toward the wall of windows as Kurt reached them, a frown of concern furrowing his brow.

“Is there a problem officer?” he interjected and the cop turned hard gray eyes in his direction. “These kids are with me. What have they done?”

He saw Chandler give him a droll look out of the corner of his eye at being referred to as a child but Kurt ignored him, projecting as much confidence and surety as he could at the officer in front of them. And it was almost disconcerting the way he could feel the mans will pushing back against his, gray eyes steely as they narrowed and met Kurt’s challenging stare.

“Sir, I’m going to need you and your companions to come with me down town. We have some questions for you. We’d like to keep this pleasant so your cooperation is appreciated.”

Kurt gave him his best stare, the kind that had put more than one diva in her place and arched a brow.

“Since when do the police drag people ‘down town’ for simple questions? These _minors_ have been with me all morning and have not committed any crime, nor have I for that matter. So I’d think any questions you had could be answered right here.”

“It’s in connection to a crime Sir and only need a few minutes of your time to ask a few clarifying questions.”

“Who’s connected to a crime? Me or them?” Kurt insisted forcefully. “We haven’t done anything, and while I understand you have a job to do officer we’re not obligated to go anywhere with you or answer any questions unless we’re under arrest.”

“This is not an arrest, we-”

“Then we’re free to go?” Kurt interjected aggressively. “Because either you’re detaining us or we’re free to go, and if you’re detaining these minors, there had better be just cause or there is going to be hell to pay with their parents. Trust me.”

He weaved the words with as much dominance as he could without sounding overly threatening keeping his tone quiet but forceful, holding the officer’s stare and leaning on his will with each word. He felt it the moment the other man gave, saw it in the shift of his shoulders, the betraying movement of his eyes as they lowered, flicking away from his penetrating gaze.

The man’s radio crackled to life again but Kurt didn’t need to hear the exchange that followed to know he’d won.

“The kids are free to go, but we’re detaining you Sir.” The officer bit out through gritted teeth as he lowered the radio once more.

Relief flooded through Kurt as he nodded shortly to Chandler and Sugar who reluctantly obeyed his quiet instruction for them to go on ahead and not to worry. They pushed past the cop with sullen expressions, the racketing tension in their bodies juxtaposed against Kurt’s sudden sense of peace.

He’d gotten his team out safely. That was all that really mattered to him.

‘ _Not all that matters Kurt! You sure as hell matter.’_ Blaine insisted, not liking the train of and Kurt’s mouth twitched upward in an almost smile.

‘ _Honey, they can question me all they like but they can’t prove anything. The hard part is over.’_

And as Kurt allowed himself to be led away he wasn’t afraid any longer because he knew it was the truth.

 

_~*~*~_

 

 _Before the lady Morgana’s arrival in Cam_ _elot Melwas Rhyfedd had thought that he was destined to live his short li_ _fe through stolen moments of joy_ _, until it was undoubtedly cut off on some muddy battlefield somewhere, his useless body trampled beneath horses and boots to be remembered by no one, save for his sire_ _w_ _ho would undoubtedly curse the day that God had saddled him with such a queer spineless_ _issue as Melwa_ _s._

 _Though_ _Melwas Rhyfedd in truth was far from spineless,_ _he knew that he was a queer sort._ _T_ _hough ‘strange’ hardly seemed to cover it. Where to begin? The magic had shown itself at an early age, and though the young prince had been warned repeatedly by his fathers heavy hands against developing the gift or revealing it to any of his peers, he’d never feared it. Nor had his abilities caused him to fear himself, not like the way his thoughts did._

 _T_ _here was a blanket locked away in his mother’s room, stitched by his mothers hands, engraved with the name of a girl who was never to be. His mother had been so sure that he was going to be a girl that she’d spent the duration of her pregnancy making the blanket, stitching her chosen name into the fine fabric amidst a colorful tapestry of_ _flowers_ _and vines. A gift fit for a princess._

 _Melwas had_ _come into her chambers once, discovered her holding it with tenderness she’d never bestowed upon either him or his brother Ryn and she’d looked up to find him watching her._ _H_ _e’d seen within her gaze the specter of grief_ _and he’d known then that she would always morn the loss of that girl, always hold the pieces of a broken heart out to him in blame._

 _He often longed for that blanket, the softest thing he’d ever touched, and at night he whispered the name stitched within the center of a delicate flower. Sometimes it made him smile to form the syllables, his lips kissing their existence as he pushed them into the world… other times the_ _y_ _dug into his belly, boring holes he could not st_ _op_ _with his small hands, and he’d lay there and ache like a person gutted._

 _M_ _yla._

 _He’d like to be called Myla just as he’d like to wear his hair like his serving maid, or try his_ _mother’s powders;_ _to behold his reflection and not feel out of step with the world_ _and his existence in it_ _._

_But he was not until he and Ryn were sent off to the houses of other lords to squire that Melwas had truly begun to fear his own thoughts. The older squires were brave and brash, painfully beautiful in the rawness of their youth and it was a beauty he too often found himself pondering at… sighing after, like the maid he’d never be, and too often he’d lay alone in his bed at night with a fist shoved in his mouth so that the others would not hear his sobs._

_T_ _he master of the house had been called to the kings court and Melwas had found himself thrown into the hustle and bustle of life at court, and with that had come an unforeseen opportunity. His magic had always been his one source of solace… he often slipped away in what little free time the squires were granted to practice what little tricks he could perform._

 _He’d not thought it through, not intended to break the laws of God – he’d only_ _slipped away to escape the summer heat down by the creek. He’d_ _been thinking of the fine dinner the King had hosted the night before, the finer ladies and lords he and the other squires had served._ _He’d_ _been imagining what it might have been like if fate had been kinder to him and granted his mother the daughter she’d_ _wanted_ _._

 _He’d been_ _caught up in a daydream of bowing before the king, daises woven into his golden hair like the maiden of summer,_ _when a voice had called out to him_ _sharp with alarm_ _. He’d nearly fallen into the creek in surprise but he’d been caught_ _just in time_ _by strong arms_ _and hauled away from the waters age._

“ _Are you daft lass?” Sir Gawain had scolded with concern staring fearfully at the waters edge. Gawain was not wrong to worry. Few people swam, he could not know that there had been a beautiful lake near his home that Melwas and his brother Ryn had plaid in, taking to it like fish._

_And Melwas was sure that he had looked like one, gaping at Sir Gawain like a ninny, but in his defense soft as his father had complained of his features being Melwas had never been mistaken for a maiden._

_But Gawain was frowning down at his attire with displeasure_ _(t_ _hough Melwas of all the squires abhorred dirt and grime and always did his best to keep his tunics and livery in fine condition_ _)_ _as if_ _he were_ _wrinkled and foul smelling._

“ _Why are you dressed as a_ _boy_ _? The priest_ _s_ _will have your head.”_

“ _B-but I am a boy… Sir” he’d sputtered and Gawain had given him a stern look, as if he were a child caught in a fib and asked, “_ _d_ _o boys always walk about with such pretty hair?”_

 _Melwas’ hands had flown to his head and his mouth had fallen open all the wider, eyes widening in terror at the strange feel of his hair, softer, finer,_ _with_ _delicate flowers weaved through the pleats just like the ones on his mother’s blanket._ _With a cry_ _he’d staggered away from Sir Gawain to lean over the waters edge and catch a glimpse of his reflection._

_A girl… not so far from how he always looked, but unmistakably feminine, the very picture of his lady mother. He’d sucked in a breath, the sight striking him like a blow and he’d begun to sob._

_Sir Gawain had pulled him away once more, baffled and irritated by the child’s undoubtedly strange behavior and had only stopped glowering when he’d noticed the way that the child’s body was shaking beneath his hands, tears running down pale cheeks._

“ _Oh come now lass...” he’d patted her back awkwardly. “I’ll not see you punished for a game, but you’d best_ _never do this again_ _. Games like this one have a heavy price._ _Come now… what is your name?_ _”_

_And despite the tears constricting his throat and the trembling of lips that felt stuck with each breath he’d known exactly how to answer._

“ _Myla. My name is Myla.”_

_And once having tasted that sort of freedom (once having been as he had always longed to be) he had been unable to stop. He’d slip away as often as he could, trying to hold the illusion of a woman for longer and longer periods._

_And then_ _Sir Kay, one of the kings strongest and most favored knights, had come upon Myla washing her masters clothes (alone by the creek where no one should have seen her)._ _H_ _e had teased her for allowing the squires to bully her into doing their work. He had looked at her with hunger. And Melwas had felt his stare down to the depths of his soul and he’d burned until there was no more pretense, no more shackles, just Myla rising from the ash._

_A woman free to touch and be touched._

_She’d breathed her name against his lips and known that wrong as it was, she’d never give it up._

_Morgana was the only person who’d ever believed she shouldn’t have to._

“ _How the world sees you is not what you are, Myla.” she would often say as they walked together in the herb garden the king had had made for her._

 _And often Myla would wonder just who she was and_ _where it was she belonged, and_ _always Morgana would huff and flick the side of her head like they were children and_ _reply_ _with_ _the_ _scold of a_ _n elder sister_ _, “you are Myla of the Summer Country_ _and like me you are a daughter of Avalon._ _We belong to ourselves_ _.”_

 

_~*~*~_

 

Chief Max Swanson of the Westerville police department did not like riddles. They left a foul taste in his mouth, one he knew from experience could not be washed away no matter how many cups of the sludge that passed for coffee they kept in the mess he downed. In his line of work unsolved riddles came back to bite you and he had the strangest feeling that the man behind the one way mirror, sitting regally as a king at court, had teeth sharper than most.

Sargent White had brought him in and proceeded to question him but the guy had an answer for everything, which was to wisely say very little or refuse to speak at all. They couldn’t detain him much longer without a solid reason and so far they had nothing. Just a guy with a card linked to an account funded by Anderson’s.

If he’d turned out not to be human it would be a different story. His being lycan would probably have been more than enough for Max to lock him up until they could get some real answers out of him, situation being what it was, but Kurt Elizabeth Hummel was human, a citizen of the United States of America and there was absolutely nothing linking him to the terrorist attack that had cost the lives of too many innocents and too many good men and women in his department.

He was going to get answers, no matter what it took because somebody was going to pay for what had happened last month and it was his job to make sure it was the right people. Hell if he knew how to achieve that when the perps weren’t exactly people.

Taking a swig of the bitter brew in his cup he entered the interrogation room, having given the suspect sufficient enough time he felt to sweat.

“Kurt Hummel, you’re a long way from Columbus,” he started conversationally, taking a seat across from the man and laying out the files that White had handed off to him.

“Visiting a friend, like I told officer White” Kurt stated simply, picking at some imaginary lint on his pants.

Kurt was a good looking man. The strange scar on the base of his neck wasn’t overly noticeable until you noticed it (small and crescent like). He wason the taller end but nothing to make him stand out, pretty in a way that some guys would probably hate to get saddled with and others would underestimate as soft, but Max didn’t. There was an unmistakable strength to him under his deceptively casual t-shirt and cropped pants.

Max didn’t know why but the guy put him on edge. He almost didn’t want to take his eyes off him, struck by the strange feeling that he was being watched by someone or something else and that holding absolutely still was in his best interest.

He did his best to ignore the feeling, flipping open the folder with White’s report and watching Kurt’s expression closely as he asked, “this friend would be Blaine Anderson?”  
Kurt just stared; they both knew White had already asked these questions and Max knew the answer whether he said it or not. Not that it meant anything that he did. Damn it all but he needed Kurt to say it out loud, to give him something to go on here.

“See, Kurt, that card you’re carrying tells me you know him.” Max leaned back in his chair, staring pensively at his suspect as he began to do what he did best: dig. “You might not know it but Blaine Anderson is a very powerful guy. I’d say man but he’s not human. Subhuman, a werewolf or “lycan” if you’re being politically correct. He’s what they call the Alpha, the chief. You know that? Seeing as you’re such good _friends_.

“Now, some people might not like that. Me? Never bothered me too much. Way I see it we should all live and let live. He takes care of his people and I take care of mine. Blaine’s always been fair, respected our rules and kept his people in line, only last month… last month they attack us unprovoked. I’ve got kids barely out of their teens in pieces on the evening news-” there it was, the flinch, barely perceptible but there, the guy was good but he was only human, could only feel one way about the picture Max was painting - “officers who will never make it home to their families, and a whole town out for blood, and that card links you to the only person who can help me understand what the hell happened.”

Because Max had been there. He’d seen wolves fighting wolves… he’d spoken to Blaine and he knew if not for the Alpha’s intervention he and his men would probably have all died that night, but he needed more than that. The public needed more than that. They needed to understand what had occurred and to believe that werewolves weren’t too dangerous to keep around and Max wasn’t so sure any longer that that was true.

“I appreciate how hard your job is Chief Swanson,” Kurt answered slowly, the first hint of real emotion Max had heard from him yet. “But I don’t know that I can help you.”

“You can help me by telling me the truth.” Max snapped brusquely and then with speed he began to slam the man with questions, hoping to shake something loose. “You fucking Anderson? Got a pretty serious love bite there, plus guy gives you some major plastic like that. You’ve gotta be. Were you with him that night? Has he said anything about it to you? See Kurt I’ve got all these questions and no answers and I don’t like that. Judge won’t like it either. I bet he’d be willing to rule we keep you here until you are feeling more inclined to cooperate.”

Max was sure of no such thing but that was why they called it a gamble.

Kurt bared his teeth; it wasn’t a smile though some might try and call it that.

“Well if you must know yes. We’re _fucking_ as you so eloquently put it. No he hasn’t said anything about it, other than that he was glad to help stop the people responsible.” Hummel’s stare dared him to deny it or the doubt wriggling in his gut whenever he thought back on that terrible night. Wolves fighting wolves. Blaine and his people coming out on top allowing Max to collect his men and exit without harm.

“It’s getting late Chief Swanson and I’m tired. Am I free to go or am I still being detained?” Kurt asked quietly, confidently, and Max knew that he knew their conversation was at an end. And then he delivered the kiss of death. “If you’re keeping me longer I’d like to call a lawyer.”

Max slammed the folder shut in aggravation.

 

~*~*~

 

Kurt had left the police station feeling a strange mix of weightless and heavy hearted, his head crammed full of thoughts that seemed to weigh a ton even as the thrill of victory lifted him high. He was walking free and just that fact had his head spinning as he called for a taxi, the fear he’d not allowed himself to feel before coming forward in such a rush he had to sit and put his head between his hands and just breathe or risk being sick.

He was fine. He was free. No one had gotten hurt or died. The the others… the others…

“ _The others are fine. They shook their tail and made it back to the forest,”_ Blaine assured his frantic thoughts and Kurt hugged himself tightly, beginning to laugh. “ _Mission completed honey, now come back.”_

Kurt had bitten his lip and shaken his head, a motion Blaine wasn’t there to see but Kurt knew he’d feel just the same.

“ _They’ll be watching me. I’m going to head back to the house on Cherry Street and sneak back after dark.”_

Human eyes were poor in the dark and his wolf body was fast and adapt at slinking through shadows, it would be easy enough to sneak out the back and disappear. Blaine did not answer and Kurt could only presume that he was unhappy and anxious but he knew his mate wasn’t going to feel better until he was home safe in their bed. It made Kurt both want to smile and to cry because now that the danger was past he felt strangely adrift, cold and anxious. There were too many eyes on him.

 

The scents of downtown Westerville were too sharp in his nose, the sounds too loud in his ears and there were too many strangers… a woman bumped against him as he exited the station, his cab having just pulled up, and his lips pulled back in a snarl before he could stop himself, his hands wrapping protectively around his stomach.

All through the cab ride he’d sat hunched, curled protectively in the corner farthest from the driver who kept casting him worried glances. He knew he was drawing unwanted attention to himself but he couldn’t stop the feeling. It was as if, now that he no longer had a potentially life or death situation on his hands, all he wanted in the world was his mate and the familiar walls of their room and every second without those things just made the anxiety worse.

He closed his eyes and tried to breathe, focusing on the rapid flutter of the tiny heart beating within him instead of the gaping silence in his head. Where was Blaine? Why had he gone so quiet? Was he terribly angry? Kurt had done well hadn’t he? He’d completed their mission and gotten everyone out without further damage done to the community.

He was grateful to finally stumble up the walk and fish for the spare key hidden under a clay pot near the door. It was a testament to his level of exhaustion that it took him as long as it did to realize that the house was not empty.

As it was, as he opened the door and shut it again behind him, the scent hit him first.

 

~*~

 

“Blaine.” Kurt said his name on an exhale of relief, like a sigh and then he was reaching back for Blaine and melting against him and Blaine held on tight.

“Kurt,” Blaine breathed in the sent of his hair and skin, held him as tight as he dared when his senses were strung tight with fear for his person and fear for the child he could smell growing within him – and wasn’t this a moment to finally be able to pick up the change in Kurt’s scent – and breathed his name over and over again between soft nuzzles and licks to his neck until the desire to kiss him became too strong.

Blaine kissed him, and kissed him, determined to touch every last inch of him, needing it as badly as Kurt seemed to need it, barely making it to the soft surface of the couch in the living room before Kurt had a hand upon his cock, stroking lazily. Blaine did not treat his clothes kindly, something he was sure Kurt would complain about later but neither of them seemed to have the presence of mind for it just then. Blaine was frantic with the urge to lay claim once more to all of Kurt’s skin and to erase all of the foreign scents that were clinging to him and Kurt wanted to be so claimed, so surrounded, and so he surrendered willingly to the heat of Blaine’s mouth and pressed every inch of their bodies together.

When release came it was swift, almost brutal, and neither of them seemed able or willing to move from their tangled position on the couch. So they just lay there, wrapped up in each others arms, comforted in the scent of mate and sex.

Blaine stroked the damp hair at the base of Kurt’s neck and Kurt smiled up at him soft and sleepy.

“You shouldn’t be here,” Kurt mumbled against Blaine’s bare shoulder, even as his hands gripped all the tighter and his teeth nibbled at the bare skin of Blaine’s shoulder. “They want to arrest you.”

“I wasn’t going to leave you alone.” The words ended on a growl and Kurt raised his head, blue eyes blinking sleepily at him. He took in the barely controlled emotion in his alpha, the desperation and rage still echoing within Blaine’s mind, and a slow tender smile curved Kurt’s lips as he leaned down to run his tongue lightly over the seam of Blaine’s lips, an oddly kittenish gesture that had a shudder going down the alphas spine.

“I don’t feel alone alpha,” the Kurt assured him with a quiet conviction. “Thank you for trusting me today.”

“Always,” Blaine promised with no less conviction, stroking the bottom of Kurt’s kiss stung lip.Now that Kurt was at his side again, safe once more, he could feel nothing but pride in him. He’d done exactly what he’d set out to do. He’d accomplished it all by being brave and smart and quick witted and aggressive and good god he was sexy when he dommed-

Blaine’s quickly derailing train of thought was further derailed by Kurt, who threw back his head and laughed.

“God you alphas really have a one track mind, everything is violence and sex,” he teased and Blaine grinned, leaning up to smack a kiss against his lips.

“And food,” Blaine quipped. “Don’t forget we like food. So that’s technically a three track mind. It’s a very sophisticated railway system when you think about it.”

When their laughter had faded and Blaine had settled once more with one arm behind his head and the other playing with the hair tickling Kurt’s neck. Kurt, though he was taller, lay comfortably across Blaine’s chest, legs tangled together, his chin propped up on his folded arms as he watched Blaine, contemplating.

 

After a time Blaine tugged gently on his hair to gain his attention because he knew that look. He loved that look in truth. It was the look of Kurt before he attacked his sketch book and then his sewing room and gave birth to a new wardrobe, the look of Kurt before a weekend long bidding war with someone named _AntiQu33n_ on the net because clearly that pair end tables were destined to be nowhere but in his living room and who replaced E’s with threes anyway. It was Kurt on a mission: world out of his way.

“What are you planning. You’ve got that look.”

Kurt huffed without heat, lips curling once more in a fleeting smile.

“I’ll need to talk to Wes about shipping supplies because we need a better system. We can’t do that every week.”

Blaine tensed. Inside he could feel the wolf stir once more, a growl beginning to rumble in his chest.

_He shouldn’t do it at all._

The thought came unbidden, despite his promises, despite his trust… because Kurt was soft against his skin and smelled like them and smelled like _cub,_ and both of them were Blaine’s and they shouldn’t be in danger.

He clamped down on the instinct to immediately refuse to allow him to ever leave the forest again (ever leave their den again actually, that would be preferable) and Kurt waited, watching him silently.

“No. You can’t do that again,” he agreed, saying nothing of how he didn’t want Kurt to do it at all. Kurt already knew, it was in the patience of his gaze. “They’ll be digging for information about you now. Perhaps we should think about waiting...”

He could feel Kurt’s disagreement but his voice was still quiet when he asked, “waiting for what Blaine? This isn’t blowing over.”

“It doesn’t mean I like there being a target on you. If they knew you were lycan-”

“It wouldn’t erase the fact that I’m a citizen with rights.”

“Says who?” Blaine pressed. “Do you really have that much faith in their government?”

“No. I’m not naive Blaine. It has failed me before,” Kurt responded reproachfully, as if he thought that Blaine had forgotten how ostracized he’d felt growing up or the fight he’d had for those rights. Blaine rubbed Kurt’s arms placating because he did remember, and he wasn’t trying to imply that Kurt didn’t have a good head on his shoulders… but maybe Wes was right too. Kurt was so new to their world. How could he be anything _but_ naive?

“I’m not saying it’s perfect protection but it’s _something_ and we’d be stupid not to use it to our advantage. The cop who interrogated me knew you...”

“Chief Swanson?” Blaine hedged and Kurt nodded.

“He held their fire that night, intended to bring you in alive. I think he’s a good person, just trying to protect the people in his care, like we are.”

Blaine grit his teeth but had to concede that he’d always felt the same about Max. The mayor never made his dislike of them a secret, disdain and fear roiling off of him in bitter stench, but Max had always been tolerant, if wary.

“He’s the chief of their police Kurt. Even if he wanted to believe the best he saw us attacking humans-

“He saw _wolves_ Blaine, wolves he can’t identify without help. If we were to come forward and tell our side of things, it would go along way toward overcoming what happened last month. At the very least it will make it harder for them to paint us as unrepentant killers.”

Blaine scoffed, lips turning up in a hateful sneer. Humans needed no help painting them as monsters. He’d say as much if he were any more sure that Kurt wouldn’t take offense. It was touch and go sometimes whether Kurt felt human or lycan in any given moment. Blaine realized that was only natural, being newly converted, and he wanted to be fair about it but sometimes he caught himself thinking it would have been easier if Kurt had been born like them.

“We already helped.” Blaine reminded him, cross despite his effort to moderate his tone because the idea of going to Swanson and his kind and groveling for their favor sat about as well in his stomach as acid. “The ones responsible are dead, thanks to us, but it _won’t_ matter to them.”

“It would have mattered to _me,”_ Kurt insisted, frowning down at him and Blaine let his head fall back on the cushion with a sigh as the beta continued with an insisting poke to Blaine’s chest. “Look, we can’t approach this like it’s ‘us against them’, not if peace is the end game. That only comes with understanding each other, and yeah that might mean meeting them on their level and laying down our pride, but peace is worth it don’t you think? I mean…”

Kurt sat up and grabbed one of Blaine’s hands, pressing it to his stomach.

“We’re having a kid, but what is she going to be born into? Your world is shrinking Blaine and soon if we’re not careful we’ll be surrounded, like you said to Wes, with no one to turn to for help.”

Blaine grit his teeth, resentful of Kurt’s words. Especially they way they rung with truth. How was it fair or right that they should have to scuttle about begging for favors from humans for _centuries,_ always in fear, always _hunted._ When it came to the food chain humans didn’t stand a chance, and there was a part of Blaine (the part with teeth) that deep down, thought the way the Guild forced them to bow to human-kind was backward. Sure. It was all for peace and prosperity but whose? The packs never seemed to come out on top when it came to compromising with humans.

“Isn’t that why we’re having the alhunt?” he rebutted. “We’re not going to be alone, not anymore. The packs need to band together. Together we’ll be strong enough to start pushing back.”

Maybe that was overdue Blaine thought. They were wolves, and they’d been submissive far longer than was wise. The Guild would not like it but year after year their numbers grew smaller, their communities tamer and tamer. Kurt was right. The lycan world was shrinking, and the Guild had not done much to stop that. If anything they had facilitated it.

As a low growl rumbled in Blaine’s chest Kurt sighed. The sound pulled Blaine from his mulish thoughts and he met his mate’s calm if somewhat exasperated stare.

“Will you at least consider it?” the beta asked, laying his head back down upon Blaine’s chest. “It’s my personal advise as your officially appointed liaison.”

Kurt poked him in the side and Blaine hid a grin.

“I’ll consider it,” he promised, settling back into the couch with Kurt cradled close. They had a few hours before sundown and nowhere they could safely go before then. He would have risked it if he were alone (just as he had getting there in the first place) but he was mindful of Kurt’s condition and the stress he was putting on his body.

Kurt would have insisted he could handle it if he knew and would have resented Blaine coddling him in such a way.So it was a good thing really that Kurt was just as concerned about Blaine’s welfare as Blaine was his. They’d wait till it was dark and in the meanwhile Kurt could catch up on some much needed sleep.

 

~8~

 

“ _You have to reach. Are you reaching?” She scolded the other girl, because they were nearly out of time now. They would separate them soon and then they would both be alone again. Eventually Cait would be discarded. The others were always discarded._

_Her friend lay on the concrete floor, body limp with fatigue, blood trickling down her hands from torn nails, already beaten._

“ _Reach!” the girl demanded, the fire of desperation burning up her chest and singeing the walls of her throat. “Stop fighting it and reach!”_

“ _I can’t,” Cait wailed, but her eyes had gone from dull and dead to hot amber, her teeth bared in threat and the girl shifted carefully away, lest those teeth find a target._

“ _You can,” she pleaded, stroking Cait’s sweat slick brow. “You have to! Reach, Cait, reach!”_

_Beneath her palms the wolf girl scrunched her eyes closed and reached, the strain rattling her body like a child’s toy, until a scream was torn from her chest._

 

_~8~_

 

“ _Daddy!”_

 

Kurt’s shout pulled Blaine from sleep, heart hammering in his chest. Kurt’s nightmare had him in a strong grip, so strong that the visions in his head sprang at Blaine, consuming his own sight for a terrifying moment.

He forced it back, grabbing Kurt’s flailing limbs and soothing him with whispers and strokes. Kurt was blinking back tears as their eyes adjusted to the room. It was dark now. Long after sunset. The thought came to him that they should get back before the others began to worry, but he couldn’t bring himself to move Kurt, that little girls scream reverberating in both their thoughts.

“It’s real...” Kurt rasped, and Blaine made a shushing noise, wiping at the tears that had spilled out the corner of one eye, but Kurt shook his head adamantly, his body shaking with fear and exhaustion. “No, Blaine it’s real. She wasn’t alone this time. There was this other girl with her. She called her Cait.”

Cait. Who was Cait? Blaine did not understand why the name had rattled Kurt as much as it had or what about it had convinced him that any bit of these terrible dreams was real.

“Honey no, it’s okay,” he crooned softly like a mother soothing a child from nightmares, and Kurt reached up to grip the warm hands cradling his face and clung.

“No, Blaine you don’t...” Kurt shuddered, falling silent and Blaine watched helplessness. “My mother’s name was Caitlyn Elizabeth Hummel. They were going to name me after her when they thought I was a girl. They had to get creative when it turned out I wasn’t. Kurt Caitlyn doesn’t flow as nice…”

Realization began to dawn on him as Kurt finished with a whisper, “We haven't talked names but I always thought that if I had a daughter, that’s what I’d call her.”

That other girl had called Kurt’s dream girl (not their daughter, Blaine refused to think of her that way) his mother’s name, the name he’d like to give their daughter if she came. Not when. They didn’t know for sure. Couldn’t know for sure, and Blaine had never been more glad of that fact. It wasn’t so unusual after all. Kurt’s fears manifesting in this way made sense, and the girl having the name he preferred for a girl was only par for the course if his brain were simply playing out his worst fears.

“Kurt Caitlyn?” Blaine attempted at humor and Kurt mustered a small smile, though his heart wasn’t in it. Blaine could feel the cold from the nightmare still lingering in his bones. Blaine pulled him closer and sighed.

“It’s a beautiful name Kurt, for a beautiful girl. If we do have a daughter I’m sure she’ll love it. And we’ll love her and keep her safe,” he promised, stroking Kurt’s damp cheeks. “They’re just dreams… and even if they weren’t, the future is never set in stone. We’ll keep her safe.”

It was an easy enough thing to promise- Blaine would give anything and everything to keep their family safe and secure- but the dream, in truth, had shaken them both. Blaine had never heard of their kind predicting the future unless there was some sort of magic involved.

He couldn’t be sure about Kurt’s but there was old magic in his bloodline to be sure. While Arthur’s gifts had seemed to stem purely from his lycan blood and the magical artifacts gifted to him, Blaine had always assumed that there must have been a wizard or two in Gwyn’s gene pool because Bran had been born with magic, and strong magic at that.

He wasn’t an expert on it but to his understanding affinity for magic tended to thin with breeding, but then again it could pop up generations down the line strong as ever for no real discernible reason.

Just fate, Ian always said, because magic did not die and often had a mind of its own. There was an entire population of wizard’s today to prove it.

And that’s what frightened Blaine. Kurt didn’t have magic beyond what being lycan had awoken in him… or he shouldn’t anyway, but Blaine had pulled him often enough from those dreams to fear them, for they were vivid and tangible in a way that struck him as undeniably real.

To think of their child that way, alone and terrified in the hands of their enemies with no one there to help her.

“We’re going to build a better world for her,” he rasped through a tight throat, sitting up to look his mate in the eye, because Kurt _was_ right, had been right all along. The way they’d always done things wasn’t working anymore, hadn’t worked in ages. They had to find a better way, because he’d never allow that nightmare future to come to pass, especially over something like pride.

Kurt leaned forward, touching their brows together and breathed out slowly in relief. Blaine’s fingers tightened on his waist.

“Build up our defenses.”Though Kurt spoke the words barely at a whisper Blaine felt the conviction in them, the barely contained aggression. It was aimed not at him but at their enemy, lying await in the shadows of their future. It made Blaine’s chest tighten and his breath hitch, wolf anticipating a hunt.

Kurt’s lashes tangled in his as he whispered,

“Forge alliances with the other Alpha’s. Make us strong again. Because if I fail...”

“Then we fight.”

Blaine uttered it not as a prediction, but a promise, the amber glow of his eyes reflecting in Kurt’s electric blue. He'd wage war like the humans had never seen before he let them take his family from him. Not again.

“Then we fight,” his mate agreed with a finality, nails beginning to bite into Blaine's flesh.

The pain was nothing. It was almost pleasure as the alpha's lips spread into a sharp toothed grin, his heart beating wildly within his chest and he crushed their mouths together, savoring the promise of violence almost as much as the taste of his mate's mouth.

They'd fight  _together._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Okay, so I wanted to get this out there because I'll be seeing Captain America: Civil War this weekend with my buddies and it'll pretty much be me and Marvel for until I come back down. So lay your thoughts, feelings and predictions on me and that'll be sooner rather than later :P *hugs* stay well lovlies.


	8. Finding peace. Setting yourself free.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As the pack moves full speed ahead with their preparations for the alhunt, Kurt ushers in some new changes that spark controversy in the pack. With the political climate only worsening, now more than ever he needs to be strong but it's a dangerous world for lycans, carriers especially and he might have bitten off more than he can chew. He's not the only one either.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> __
> 
> The beauty of it is,  
> I'm learning how to face my beasts  
> finding out how to find some peace  
> and set myself free  
> because today I don't have to fall apart  
> I don't have to be afraid  
> I don't have to let the damage consume me  
> or my shadows see through me cause'
> 
> Fear in itself,  
> will reel you in and spit you out  
> over and over again.  
> Believe in your self and you will walk.  
> ~Fear, by Blue October
> 
> **Warnings: There is a heavy emphasis on religion and myths in this chapter and it is not meant to reflect any real feelings of mine or discredit anyone's real beliefs. All histories and opinions have been modified or adapted for the purposes of a very fictional (and hopefully enjoyable) plot.**

 

“ _Tell me again, the story of Arthur and his knights,” she asked the fairy at the edge of her bed, and the fairy laughed. She was not worried that mother or father would hear. They never seemed to be aware when the fairy visited. She’d tried to tell them about her but they thought she was playing imaginary games with herself. It was not a game that father liked her to play, so now she kept it secret._

“ _That old story” the fairy sighed, though the girl knew she was not cross by the smile tugging at the fairy’s lips. “Wouldn’t you like to hear something else?”_

“ _I like Arthur!” the girl insisted with a pout and her fairy guardian rolled pretty green eyes at her and reached for the blankets the girl had tossed aside in her huff, tucking them up close to her chin._

“ _I know you do. What is it you like so much about King Arthur. Is it that he was brave? Or is it that he was handsome?” she teased with a wiggle of dark brows and_ _the girl wrinkled her nose, sticking a small pink tongue out at her guardian._

“ _I like that he was kind. He didn’t bully people for being different...” the girl gulped, finding it hard to swallow as she thought suddenly of the kids at school, the way they’d whispered about her when she’d had her accident. Father had not forgiven her. Clenching her blankets tight the girl finished with conviction, “He was strong, and smart, and he didn’t let people push him around. He was… he was perfect.”_

_One of the fairy’s long fingered hands came to stroke her cheek, brush away the tears that had leaked out of the corner of the girls eye and the girl nuzzled her palm, soaking up its warmth._

_The fairy seemed very sad all of a sudden._

“ _N_ _o_ _,” she said, stroking the girls cheek once more. “Arthur was all those things, but he was never perfect. We need others_ _sometimes to point out our weaknesses,_ _and_ _the best sort of friend is the one who_ _sharpens you_ _to overcome_ _them. Arthur had a great many weaknesses, and a great many friends, but not always the kind that encouraged him to be the best of himself._

 _The rein of Arthur is remembered by many as a time of prosperity and plenty._ _What is not remembered as readily are_ _sacrifices that were made to achieve it_ _,_ _for Arthur was striving for prosperity in the aftermaths of Roman rule. The God_ _of the Romans_ _had become the rule of the land, and_ _his followers believed him to be_ _very_ _jealous. All those who did not recognize his dominion over the earth were to be considered damned. The church was rapidly gaining power in this way, the power to unseat Kings, and Arthur knew their fragile peace was at risk._ _He_ _must step_ _carefully_ _and_ _appease the whims of the Holy Men as they declared them._

_T_ _hough Arthur did not always agree with them he felt forced to follow their rules… even when he knew it wasn’t right. His knights encouraged this, believing as he did that it was the only way to protect_ _all that_ _they had built._

_Arthur was no_ _t_ _unwise to be wary of making an enemy of the church, but he could not predict all that they would ask of him, or what it would cost him to give.”_

“ _What about Morgana! She must have warned him?” the girl insisted, green eyes flashing with indignation, disbelieving that her hero could ever have allowed himself to be bullied into cruelty as the fairy seemed to be implying. Sad emerald eyes met their mirror as the fairy went on with the story._

“ _Lady Morgana was not a woman who could be easily cowed, and she had no great love for these holy men. For her very existence already marked her as damned, and she refused to repent for the things that made her as she was. She would not stifle or hide the magic of her blood or bend at the knee to a God she’d never met when she could as easily turn water into wine herself._ _And t_ _he fact that she could incensed them. The fact that she, a woman, could perform miracles of her own when she was never seen observing the holy rights or speaking the name of the true God, was a thing not to be borne._

_There came a year, shortly after Arthur freed Briton from Rome and began uniting the king_ _doms, when a curse fell upon Arthur and his people in the form of a deadly illness. It killed swiftly, bloating the bodies of its victims and eating away at their flesh leaving behind the black stain of_ _rot._ _For this reason the holy men began to call it the ‘devils due’ for it was believed that those who were taken by the sickness were the damned, and that the devil had come to collect his due for their wickedness._

_S_ _he was greatly irritated by this. It was the height of foolishness Vivi… and she was arrogant. She thought that if she went to the King and got his permission to go into the villages and heal the people in her own way, that they would see that their fears were only superstitions. She knew, that Arthur thought very fondly of her, because she thought the world of him… for many of the same reasons you do. He was brave, and he was kind when so little about that age was kind to her. She never doubted_ _him, not for a moment and it mattered not that they’d never shared a bed_ _._ _She knew how they felt for one another… knew the power of it. She believed them to be unbreakable when they were of like mind._

_She did not stop to think about the consequences_ _of directly defying the church in this way, nor the position she would put him in when she asked him to go_ _against_ _the warnings of his council._

_Many_ _people_ _did come to her,_ _and many were healed_ _._ _People began to praise her, call her a fairy, whisper that she was one of the goddesses of old. The priests did not like these whispers. Remember this Vivi. Never be ashamed of what you are, but you must always be careful. When men call you witch, it’s because they want to see you burn. They will try and burn the heart right out of you."_

 

 _~*~*_ _~_  

 

_T_ _he 2_ _nd_ _Month of Gestation_

 

In weeks five and six the baby’s brain and central nervous system are developing. As a result some carriers experience their first mental connection with their child. They don’t share much about what these underdeveloped connections are like, as the developing bond between carrier and offspring is a very intimate process held sacred between máthair and child. Into week six body symptoms in the carrier typically increase: exhaustion, nausea, vomiting, sore breasts, headaches, constipation, faintness, and mood swings have been noted and are exasperated by stress. Inside, the baby's facial features are also starting to develop, seen as tiny dark spots on his or her face. They may at this point start to move (though the carrier can’t yet feel it). The carrier can expect their bodies to begin taking on weight to support the babies continued development.

In weeks seven and eight the babies growth spurts. Rapid chemical changes in the carriers body seems to trigger the aggressive instincts in the dominant partner. It’s typical for the alphas to fight those who are careless enough to wander too close to the den without invitation and they seem biologically driven to hunt. This is likely to match the carriers need to eat more as the baby triples in size in a short period of time. Even in more domesticated packs alphas and other dominant partners experience feral urges that can lead to public altercations and incidents if not closely monitored. One alpha kind enough to describe it for me described it as follows:

[There are days when you get up and you know you’ve got to go into town and work like a human, wear their skin and you’re fine like that usually...but some days, you just know you’re a wolf, and they’re all prey and your mate needs to eat. You just want them to be happy and not go hungry. You know that they’ve got your kid, growing inside them and it’s just...you forget you’re supposed to be anything else but what you are.]

Carriers need an extra 300 and some calories a day during this stage, an estimated 650 calories for twins in order to remain healthy. As a result many experience strange cravings along with oral fixations. The carrier often chooses to spend more time in their wolf body and may experience heavy anxiety when parted from their mate or the den. Dizzy spells are common as is frequent urination in both parents (the carrier because of increased blood flow, the dominant because of territorial marking instincts).

~From the Journals of Dr. Quinn Fabray.

 

_~*_ _~*~_

 

_Westerville, Ohio_

 

“It’s a good thing we’re nearly done with the road,” Kurt muttered, dropping his hands with a frustrated sigh, giving up on trying to close the button on his favorite pair of pants. On the ground near his feet, gnawing on his well patched stuffed bear, Benito glanced up at him with curious blue eyes.

“ _No pants today?”_ the cub asked with a hopeful smile and Kurt fought a grin.

“Yes we’re all wearing pants today. Just not these ones.” Kurt glared balefully at his reflection in the mirror. The puffiness that his belly had undertaken in recent weeks had slipped past ‘he could have eaten too much at dinner’, into ‘he consistently eats too much at dinner’. While Kurt understood that intellectually baby bumps weren’t fat, he also understood intellectually that men didn’t get them, so who needed intellectualism anyway.

Today was a big day and all he wanted was to wear his good pants. Was that asking too much?

 _Hungry_.

The feeling came to him suddenly, quiet and yet somehow feeling profound, because it was different than the hunger pains he’d felt yesterday or the day before, his body urging him to fill an empty feeling belly as his appetite increased day by day. This was like suddenly _being_ hunger. Like all of Kurt’s complexities suddenly simplified to one focused point. And for a passing moment he had no name, no person, no anything. He was just hunger.

It was over almost before it began, his stomach’s insistent grumbling now almost feeling like an after thought. He was lightly pressing a hand to the swell of his abdomen in consideration when Blaine appeared at the bathroom door still toweling his hair dry to frown at him.

“Kurt why aren’t you eating?” he asked, pointing over to the table in the breakfast nook where Chelsey had left him a little pre-breakfast.

“Do you not like it? I’ll have them make you something else. What do you want? It’s the meat right? Is it still making you sick? I know you don’t like it so raw, but your stomach doesn’t like it cooked right now either. Honey you should-”

“Blaaaine.” Kurt dragged out his name until the alpha male had fallen mercifully silent. “Honey, relax. You’re on a ten right now. My stomach grumbled. In a second I will walk over there and pick up one of those lovely pastries-”

Blaine opened his mouth, and though Kurt could guess what he was about to say, he glared him back into silence and continued on.

“ _-and_ a bite of the meat, and all will continue to be well.”

Blaine, crossing the room, scooped Benito up into his arms and sighed.

“Terri said you need at least fourteen pounds of meat per day.”

Kurt cringed at the mention of madame Terri Delmonico. The highly anticipated arrival of the Obstrica had occurred the morning before, the journey from Cincinnati taking twice as long as it had needed to according to the report of her poor guide; because the madame had refused to travel by daylight and had stopped to commune with every rock and stream they came across.

They’d greeted her on the steps and Kurt hadn’t known what to think at first. She was a thin woman with big eyes and a pointed face. She’d greeted Kurt by grabbing him by the waist and sniffing him intently, only to declare loudly for all to hear that he wasn’t getting enough protein and the cub was sure to be stunted.

Never mind how embarrassing it had been he’d had to talk Blaine down the rest of the night and gnaw on some nasty root that Terri had pulled out of god only knew where, because she’d assured them all it would correct any of the damage they’d already done.

Kurt had really _really_ intended to be more open minded about the whole mid-wife thing, and upholding lycan traditions in general, but Terri struck him as a bit of a nut-job.

“Quinn said protein is important but fourteen pounds of it daily is overkill,” Kurt rebutted and when Blaine opened his mouth like he was going to protest Kurt arched a brow at him, “Blaine, that’s like three times what an adult wolf needs to survive in the wild. We looked it up, remember?”

“It is a lot,” Blaine conceded and Kurt sagged, relieved. But he should have known Blaine wasn’t going to let him completely off the hook.

“Two bites of the meat,” he implored, pressing his cheek to Benito’s baby soft one and poking his lip out in a pout worthy of his three-year-old nephew. Benito’s eyes were tracking between them both, watching with interest, his bear still hanging from his mouth like a chew toy.

Kurt wrinkled his nose and said to the child for Blaine’s ears and Benito’s amusement, “Uncle Blaine thinks he can sway me with his big puppy eyes and long lashes. What do you think Beni?”

Benito’s mouth split into a wide feral looking grin, the poor bear still clamped between his teeth, as he nodded, curls flopping on his head.

And when Blaine grinned triumphantly and began nodding with him just as eagerly, Kurt laughed.

“Fine. Two bites. But I’ll have you know I’m doing it for the kid.”

“Of course.” Blaine agreed amiably, leaning over to smack a kiss on Kurt’s cheek. “Today’s a big day but you’ve still got to take care of yourself. How are the lessons coming along?”

For a moment Kurt’s heart skipped a beat, thinking of the fight lesson Chandler had given him the night before. They’d had to take a few days of rest in between because Quinn and Kurt’s morning sickness had demanded it. But Blaine couldn’t know that and wouldn’t be so calm about it if he did, so Kurt’s sluggish brain finally pieced together that he was referring to the language lessons that his denmaids were giving him when they weren’t too busy helping Kurt renovate the Alpha wing. When they were done with renovations there, Kurt had plans for the rest of the house but they’d have to be able to get the shipments in and out of the forest before he could think about that.

Renovations and language lessons were just two points on a long list of things Kurt needed to do to get them ready for the alhunt. He spoke french better than most having taken it in school and being just proud enough of that fact to keep it up. He’d always hoped he’d make it to Paris one day. He still might. Stranger things had happened, just look at his life.

His french would undoubtedly prove useful with a few of the packs coming to grace their home but he’d wondered how they were going to overcome the language barrier, and then wondered if there wasn’t some universal wolfy language he didn’t speak. Blaine had laughed at him when he’d asked.

“ _Our languages have developed right alongside humans, Kurt, so no, there is no universal wolf tongue. But the very first of us came out of the Carpathian mountains and they all spoke Romanian. We call it ‘mother tongue’. The lups, the wild wolves that still live there, they refuse to speak anything else, so it’s what we speak when we have to gather together. Not everyone in the pack will be as fluent as we need to be, but everybody teaches their cubs enough to scrape by. I know we try and teach the cubs at Dalton in their parents stead.”_

Kurt had remembered belatedly that Blaine had once told him something before about learning Romanian in school. He’d not thought to question the oddness of that or the coincidence that a club run by lycans would call itself ‘Full Moon’ in Romanian and that all of Blaine’s friends would know what that meant. Then again he’d been outrageously horny and distracted by Blaine’s unfairly sexy voice in his ear going through the biological scramble of his life at the time, so he could probably be excused.

So, Romanian was the lycan mother tongue and he and Blaine had sent out invitations to the leaders of some of the oldest and strongest packs in the world to come to their home and make friendly with them. Kurt wasn’t about to be caught with his pants down.

“Bună dimineața, Blaine,” Kurt offered in reply leaning just enough to return a soft kiss to his mate’s cheek. He stayed close, unabashedly enjoying the warmth of Blaine’s skin and the sweetness of his scent. “Te iubesc.”

 

 

_~*~*~_

 

_New York City, New York_

 

Peitro had been to some of the greatest cities in the world over the course of the last twenty years, and to some of its most wretched. New York had the admirable talent of claiming both. It was big, ugly, and too cold in Peitro’s opinion. Rome was like good wine: aged, a rich cocktail of sights and sounds for the senses, visually arresting and yet simple in its construction.

For the millionth time he found himself wishing he’d never left, that he’d never joined the Order, though it was a useless thing to wish. There was no other path for the sons of Medici but this, a fact that Uncle Benito had reminded him all too forcefully the last they’d met.

It had been nearly a month since the execution they’d held in the Carpathian mountains and, though they’d tangled with a few of the smaller covens and the bolder wolf packs, they’d not discovered the location of the temple of the Sept Sisters nor had they seen hide or hair of the Valkyrie as they’d expected.

They’d been close. Peitro had felt it in his very bones, but they’d been delayed and distracted by the appearance of a rogue vampire master who kept terrorizing their camps and the villagers. He was undoubtedly one of the stronger vampires Peitro had ever encountered and Razael had become obsessed with hunting him. So great was his desire to wear the illusive creature’s teeth around his neck he failed to see how chasing it led them further and further away from the mountains, but that was Razael for you. He never could stomach losing a game.

It might have gone on for months if Uncle hadn’t called them urgently back to Rome. Peitro had been relieved to be going home. It had been too long since he’d seen his family. He’d feared as the car had approached the end of the road winding up to the villa that the little boy who waited inside might not remember who he was; but Andrea had appeared at the door and Simone had appeared from behind her, all sun browned skin and sun streaked curls, with the most delighted grin on his face as if the sun had just come out again.

“ _Papà, tu sei qui! You’re here, you’re here!”_

Peitro had caught the little boy before he could collide with his father’s legs, lifting him up to hold him close and bury his nose in the soft strands of his hair. Simone had buried his face against Peitro’s chest and clung.

And Peitro thought that if he concentrated hard enough he could still smell the soap Andrea used to wash the boys hair. She’d always had a love for lavender.

“You’ll see them again Cousin.”

In the seat beside him Razael was sitting poised like a king, a small leather bound journal open in one lap and a pen in one hand.

Peitro scowled darkly at him.

“Do you know, that each time I come home I’m afraid he won’t know me? Or that I’ll find Drea wrapped up in the arms of some lover?”

Razael scoffed.

“She’s a godly woman. She wouldn’t dare.”

“She’s my _wife_ Raz, and I have left her alone to raise our son.”

It was not fair to her. There was a part of him that would not blame her for straying, but it was overwhelmed by the part of him that ached in agony at the very thought of losing her to someone else. He swallowed thickly.

Simone had been delighted to see him, forgiving of his long absences. Andrea had been less so. It had taken him far longer than usual to appease her, and any effort to warm her heart towards him and rekindle the passion they’d once felt so strongly for each other had been wasted when Uncle had given them their new orders. All the way to America this time, which is what found them sitting in a receiving room on the 12th floor of the State Government Office.

“ _Leave chasing the field mice to the men, I’ve a more important task for the two of you,”_ Uncle had told them. _“The time has come for the Order to emerge from the shadows, to do as God intended and claim this world in His name. There have been signs.”_

“She’s a Medici,” Razael countered with a succinct motion of his pen to page, the movement almost as sharp and vicious as the swipe of a knife. Peitro had seen him slit throats with the same artful flourish.

“She knew who you were when she married you. She knows that you are burdened with the task that God has given you, and is wise enough not to bring shame upon you or our family name. And if she is not...”

Razael ended the line of script he was writing with a pointed press of pen, the instrument thudding against the paper with finality. Peitro clenched his teeth and Razel looked up at him and smiled.

“Well, we shall pray for her wisdom.”

Peitro turned away to look out the rooms large windows and stare out over the city. He needed to focus on something else besides his cousin’s smugly grinning face or he feared he might strike it.

“As I will pray that you and Uncle have not misread the signs.”

He dared not think it, even as he dared not hope that the signs spoken of in the Qumran scrolls were really beginning to manifest. For centuries the Order had been waiting for the return of the Messiah, gathering in the shadows of a forgotten age as mankind strode ever deeper and deeper into a sea of wickedness, like children on a dare too stubborn to turn back even as they felt the tide begin to clutch at them.

But like children, they could not forget what it was like to stand upon solid ground in the safety of loving arms. The hope of a Messiah had permeated every nation, was preached in religion after religion, false saviors held out to the gullible souls of desperate men like sweat candy; because there was little a man wouldn’t do for the hope of redemption, for the slightest chance that maybe one day it stops hurting, and people stop hurting one another.

To be held like babes in the arms of their father… that was what they wanted. Only the savior never came. Their gods never answered. They had to tell themselves not yet, and try not to wonder why.

Even now down below, on the front steps of their government, there was a man lying amongst a pile of ratty blankets and faded news papers staring sightlessly at the legs of strangers as they passed him by. Strangers with well kept bodies and full agendas rippling past him as unconcerned as water to pebbles in a stream.

_And you shall know the savior comes when wickedness increases and the hearts of men become loveless._

It had always been an easy thing for Peitro to believe that there was something dark stalking the hearts of mankind. He had only to look into is own to know the truth of it.

Peitro more than most, believed in the savior and his second coming. But he supposed when your hands were as bloody as his were you had to. You either believed you were blessed or accepted that you were damned.

“Wars and rumors of wars, famines pestilence and earthquakes,” Razael began to tick off. “Monsters walking the earth… god knows we’ve seen plenty of them. Despite the measures we’ve taken they continue to flourish. Stars have fallen from the sky and moved into houses just as the scrolls predicted. Are these not signs enough that the resurrection is coming?”

“One world government?” Peitro reminded him of the eighth (and least subjective) sign with a pointed stare. “I know what Uncle thinks, but even with the support of the senator I fear we are no closer to uniting the nations than we are to discovering the power of flight.”

“Peitro, my dear cousin, you’ve such little faith.” Razael clucked his tongue at him and Peitro jumped when Raz suddenly snapped the book in his lap shut and tucked the leather bound book inside his suit jacket. “It is worrying. Do you find yourself having doubts about our mission?”

Peitro grit his teeth and toyed with the idea of saying yes. Though it wasn’t strictly true that he doubted the mission so much as he doubted himself.

The thing was, to believe in the Hunter’s creed as ardently as one needed to believe to lay their lives down and take up the sword, one also had to believe that their actions were redeemable, righteous even.

He doubted that.

How could he not when his dreams were riddled with twisted visions of blood and death, round eyes glaring accusingly out of sunken faces, the dead pointing fingers and reaching for his throat... they often woke him from sleep, choking his airways and driving all warmth from the room. And he thought he might have dealt with the panic attacks, the crushing guilt, or the cold grip of fear that dogged him if he could have been allowed to return to his home, to lay with his wife and hold his son and perhaps forget… but there was no forgetting, no soothing, and he could not help but feel it was because somebody like him did not deserve it.

Peitro Medici felt far from grace, and for one sweet moment he let the confession sit on the tip of his tongue and imagined what it would be like to admit it. It would likely be a relief.

But Peitro Medici was also no fool. He had no idea where to find peace of mind, could only hope it came either when he breathed his last or when they achieved their aims, whichever should come first.

No matter how he felt one thing he could not allow himself to forget was that he had a family to protect.

“It is myself I doubt. There is a lot riding on these negotiations,” he answered. It was its own sort of truth. There _was_ a lot riding on their meeting with Senator Riley. Wars and rumors of wars. Their souls.

When Razael smiled at him again it was all things amused but nothing warm.

“How can we fail Peitro? We’ve God on our side.”

 

~*~*~*~

Rowen had waited all morning and well into the afternoon for the Matcă to leave the pantry line where the weekly rations were being distributed. The Pack wasn’t starving, but with so many mouths to feed at the school on top of everything it was going to be a close thing if the Alpha’s plan to get shipments back into the forest didn’t work.

He’d waited for Kurt to leave for town because the beta was very diligent, and last week he’d noticed when Rowen had gone through the line twice. Between Kurt and Wes they’d figured out what to give to Allie for the school and what to give to everyone else based on the size of each household. Rowen was unmated and lived alone to their knowledge. No one knew about the rogue he’d saved, and in the interest of keeping the boy alive he was determined to keep it that way.

The boy’s strength was coming back, what with the onset of the full moon and the good food Rowen made sure he ate, but it wasn’t easy feeding two on rations for one.

 

His stomach was grumbling as he returned to his tiny cottage, laden down with several slabs of thawing beef. He was met with the gentle murmur of the television, though the young man wrapped up in blankets on his small couch did not look up to see who had entered the house at all. His gaze stayed fixed on the television even as Rowen shuffled past him into the tiny kitchen to deposit their meat rations on the table.

His eyes flicked to the screen to catch a news clip showing more of the protestors outside of the police blockade, though the ugly things they were shouting and the words printed on their signs were the same as they were every day.

Rowen frowned. What the rogues had done was awful, but he didn’t think it was good for the boy to watch that all day.

“They’re hurt. I figure...” he said, clearing his throat as he began to remove the paper they’d rapped the meat in. “I figure once things calm down, people will start to see things a little clearer.”

The boy didn’t answer, but Rowen hadn’t really expected one. He extended his nails and busied himself tearing the meat into smaller portions, thinking up ways to prepare it that his house guest wouldn’t object to. For whatever reason the kid refused to eat it raw, threw up and got the shakes every time Rowen managed to get so much as a bite in him. He mumbled about monsters a lot and watched those news clips with glazed eyes.

Guilt was the only thing Rowen could figure. The MacTere had lived hard and done things that Rowen couldn’t rightly stomach. He’d never agree with the call their Alpha had made, but he knew that being pack meant you didn’t always have a choice.

Searing the outside of the meat and covering it in heavy sauces seemed to do the trick. They both knew it was still red inside but if it helped the boy not to see it, then Rowen wasn’t going to complain. Warm and raw would always be Rowen’s favorite way to eat, but there was something to be said for more sophisticated cuisine.

“They’re right though.”

The sound of another voice besides his own took him so off guard that he ripped apart a section of meat with more force than he’d intended, flecks of bloodied ice spraying his cheek as he looked to where the boy sat, still staring morosely at the tiny television box.

“We’re monsters.”

Rowen wiped his wet cheek with a bare arm and sighed.

 

~*~*~*~

 

_Madhya Pradesh_ _,_ _India. Evening._

 

Jayna had been waiting for a sight of Bandhu since the sun had set. Father had warned her to keep her distance, for Pranita had birthed a litter of cubs last moon, and the tigers, much like their own carriers, were unpredictable when they had young to protect.

The red wolves of Madhya Pradesh had lived on this land for hundreds of years, long before it had become a national park, sharing it with the many other mighty hunters, but none so mighty as the Bengal tigers.

Once this land and all that had surrounded it had all been wild, a true kingdom for the sons and daughters of the Red Clan, but then the humans had come growing in more and more numbers. The Hunters had worn them all away, nearly to extinction, but her great grandfather had been wise. He had gone to the Guild and bowed to them, agreed to their terms of peace in exchange for their agreement to help preserve what remained of the clan’s home.

Park Seoni had been declared a wild life sanctuary and a resort was built upon it to maintain its funding. Pack Seoni lived there, allowed by the local governments to run the resort and see to the parks continued upkeep. They did so happy to see to the restoration of what the humans had decimated and to have a place to keep their own cultures and traditions alive, even if it was to be sold to humans for entertainment value.

In town, everyone knew what you were when you said your last name was Paark, so no one admitted as much unless they were forced to. When the inspector came to register new cubs they were all stamped with the same surname: a park full of Paarks. An easy way to tell who belonged in the human world and who didn’t.

Jayna had learned early not to count on making friends outside of the pack and to never travel alone. Lycans caught alone outside the park gates had been bullied before, even killed.

The police never did much to find the culprits when someone from the pack was injured. More often they were accused of causing trouble where they shouldn’t have been.

When Jayna had been young, she’d dreamed of going to the lycan school in America but her parents had not wanted to have her grow so far from them and come home to them a stranger. She would have hated to leave her life or the tigers, whom she was sure would have missed her, but she also thought it would have been worth it to grow up outside the shadow of shame.

She’d worked hard in school, determined to get the scholarships she’d need to go away to university when she was eighteen. Her parents had been against it but they’d had no choice but to let her when she became an adult. She’d moved to a big city a world away where no one knew that the surname Paark on her identification cards meant that she wasn’t one of them.

London was the first place she’d ever lived where they had not required her to carry anything identifying herself as lycan, and the city was neutral. Jayna Paark was just an intelligent girl from India, in school on scholarship like so many others.

She’d loved the freedom, and eager to draw it out she’d gotten a job after school. She’d made friends, made love to a few boys and a few girls when the mood struck her, made a life far from home, always knowing that eventually it would end.

With pack numbers so small it was important to regulate their matings and breeding to ensure the next generation. She was an alpha girl, and she’d been promised since she presented to their Alpha’s son, an omega almost twelve years her junior.

Máthair had called her home, stating that he had important things to discuss with her and Jayna could guess what they were. Her promised, Hari, had just turned seventeen and next year would come into his majority.

Jayna sighed, scanning the trees in the dark and catching no sign of a tiger’s pelt in the dark, though now that Bandhu was grown (and a father at that) she doubted he would be so quick to reveal himself to another predator. The red wolves were smaller than their feline neighbors but they hunted in greater numbers and were well adapted to raising and herding the big cats.

“Fine, stay mad at me,” she grumbled to the dark, hopping down from the limb where she’d perched. She could feel his eyes on her, knew that he was watching from wherever he was hiding. “But I’m here to stay old friend, so we might as well make nice.”

Jayna made her way out of the jungle and up the path towards the lake where the resort was. Most of the pack lived in the small houses at the base of the resort camp, their tented roofs glowing in the moonlight and bathed by rows and rows of lamps like a small city rising up out of the hill. On the hill top was the resort hotel, where the tourists came to enjoy the beauty of their land and learn all about the natives who had inhabited it for centuries before they’d turned it into a past time.

She could smell the preparations for dinner, meat soaked in heavy spices ready to be seared over the hot coals. She’d missed the food, she would say that. Nobody knew how to prepare a blood soup quite like her máthair, or how to get the outside of a kabob just brown enough while keeping the inside a vibrant red.

When she walked through the narrow door of her parents home she was greeted by the eager yips of cubs, their red furred bodies wriggling against her legs and dancing about her feet as they greeted her. They’d been blessed with a large litter the year her youngest sibling Chaya had been born. She was very close with her litter mates, the cubs often moving from house to house in large groups rather than spending lengthy periods apart.

“ _Jayna! Jayna! Did you see the tigers? Did they have the cubs with them? Can we_ _go see t_ _hem?”_ Chaya and her friends were all yipping at once, and Jayna had to push them away with her feet just to find room to walk, though she couldn’t help but smile at their enthusiasm.

“Crazy cubs, let me by. The tigers weren’t feeling very social tonight. They would not let me see them.”

“That’s what you get for not coming back for the births. You’re a stranger to them now,” her Máthair said, poking his head through the kitchen door. Spotting her muddy shoes he glared at her, talking rapidly and berating her not to track mud into his clean home. “Hurry and wash girl. Your sire will be home soon. He and the Alpha have something important to share with you.”

Jayna paused in the middle of tugging off her boots, shoving aside her long dark hair to peer closely at her Máthair’s expression, but his face was closed as he concentrated on searing the meat over the low coals. She could tell by the ingredients he had spread out that he was preparing her favorite, Aloo gosht. The house was filled with the delicious smell of cooking spice and smoke, and god knew Jayna loved to eat but she found her appetite suddenly waning.

“The Alpha? Máthair, what could he possibly want with me? Hari is too young yet for mating.”

Her Máthair smacked the wooden spoon he was stirring the stew with, lambs blood base Jayna’s nose told her, and cast her a scolding frown.

“He’s old enough to court and you know that Jayna. The poor boy barely knows you and whose fault is that? But that’s not what they want to discuss so I suppose tonight you get to relax.”

Jayna, relieved that her sire and her Alpha had not called her home simply to brow beat her into a courtship she did not want, nor did she feel at all prepared for, brightened. Tossing her boots aside and stepping over the chattering cubs she crossed into the kitchen, setting her chin upon her Máthair's shoulders and watching him cook.

“What is it then?” she asked, eying the cubes of meat her Máthair had yet to seer.

“The Alpha has received an invitation from Alpha Anderson.” Máthair growled at her in warning, smacking her hand, but not before she’d snagged a bright red lump of lambs meat and plopped it into her mouth, grinning as the juices burst over her tongue and mingled with the spices her Máthair had rolled the meat in.

“ _The Alpha Anderson?”_ She gasped between their minds. She knew better than to talk with her mouth full, though she couldn’t resist sucking on her fingers to get the last bits of blood and spice off them, smacking her lips when she was done with very last drop. “What could he possibly want with us?”

“They’re having an alhunt. We’ve been invited, and the Alpha I think would like you to go as well.”

“Me?” Jayna scoffed, though in truth the idea of going to America and getting to meet the most legendary pack in their world was not unappealing.

“You speak English the best, as well as the mother tongue.” Máthair said with a shrug. “Perhaps he hopes to make a good impression.”

Jayna narrowed her eyes in anger, finding the idea distasteful.

“So I am a trinket to dangle before their mighty Alpha? To convince him we are prosperous and civilized?” She could tell by his wince that it was true and Jayna crossed her arms mulishly, upset that she’d taken time off of work for this nonsense. “Máthair, our Alpha manages a _zoo_ where we are part of the attraction _._ Why were we even invited to Westerville? We are game keepers and servants, what could Alpha Anderson want with us?”

“Hush, silly girl,” her Máthair snapped, teeth nipping Jayna’s nose and the young woman let out an embarrassing yip as her hands flew to clutch the stinging appendage.

“We are the descendants of Clan _Laal,_ Jayna,” Máthair insisted with sad brown eyes. “We have survived because we are strong. You have gone to school, have been educated, can wear those fancy clothes, and speak the way you do, all because of the sacrifices your elders have made. So don’t be ashamed of them.”

Jayna clutched her nose, smarting with guilt and resentment for being chastised as if she were still Chaya’s size, but she knew there was wisdom in her Máthair’s words. She wasn’t ashamed of her family or her home. She just wanted better for them. Was that so wrong?

With a sigh she left her Máthair to his cooking, but not before snagging another piece of meat and dodging the blow he aimed at the back of her head. Smiling to herself she went to wash up.

 

~*~*~

 

Kurt had thought that throwing himself into helping Blaine take care of the pack would mean seeing more of Blaine each day. On the contrary he was seeing first hand what Allie had described to him, how his stepping up to the plate freed Blaine to focus on other things. If anything he saw a lot more of Wes because so many of the decisions he was making and ideas that he had regarding the food crisis and their PR with the human community also had to go through the pack Beta before it ever reached the Alpha’s ears.

And while it was true that Kurt had a short cut via the bed he shared with Blaine, he thought it was wiser to use that sparingly. In a way Wes had taken over his education, but it was education rife with the odd power struggle because Kurt wasn’t a protégé anymore and he _was_ the Alpha’s mate. They both knew Kurt had the ability to go over the other beta’s head if he wanted to and it made things awkward.

He’d gone to Wes first with his idea about setting up a shipping network and argued with the beta until he’d seen the merits of the plan. Wes had even been the one to approach Blaine with it. Kurt was trying to be fair and to respect the fact that Wes had worked hard to earn his position within the pack, but he also knew that he was never going to earn the same by playing it safe or bowing his head at every turn. He had to do what he felt was right for the pack and the future he and Blaine were building and he couldn’t afford to let even Wes stand in his way.

Wes had been very against their agenda that day, had denied his suggestion to approach the local chapter of Al-lys United outright; but Kurt knew that every day that passed with silence from them meant that the government was closer to making decisions on what to do with the ‘lycan problem’ without actually hearing from any lycans. They had to get involved, make their voices heard, and yes, as much as Blaine and the others seemed to hate the very idea, they needed to humanize their community in the public eye.

He’d gone to Blaine himself on that one and they’d made the decision together (as they should) but Kurt knew there was grumbling going around about it, and that Wes probably couldn’t help but feel like Kurt was circumventing his authority. They both knew where this conflict was headed, where it had to be headed, but Kurt was mindful not to push too hard, because if he had to fight Wes before he was ready he doubted the outcome would be very pretty.

Al-Lys United had started in New York and then spread to other major cities and their suburbs, where humans and those subhumans who chose to integrate themselves into human society had to live closely together. They were run primarily by humans, to educate other humans on subhuman culture and help subhumans feel more at home in theirs, with the belief that they were all human at their core.

Kurt had seen young people all over Columbus sporting trendy shirts crying ‘ _down with the sub_ ’ before any of this had become real to him. He’d always wanted to believe it was true, that there was no _sub_ when it came to being human, that the stories he heard about werewolves and vampires (and even wizards on occasion) were exaggerated just to spread mistrust and give people a reason for their bigotry.

But now, standing outside the head quarters in Columbus, catching glimpses of bright eyed sunny smiling people with hopeful phrases stamped across their chests, he understood it for what it was. Naivety.

Westerville’s local Al-Ly chapter was small, just a group of people who met weekly in a rented conference room to discuss lycan awareness and lycan-human relations, but when Kurt had approached the woman who ran it she’d been very excited to meet with him. Penelope (call me Penny) already seemed to know a lot about the pack, and about Blaine, and he even got the feeling that she knew something of him because Kurt hadn’t really had to do as much explaining or convincing as he’d prepared for.

She’d agreed that hearing from Blaine and the pack would be the best thing right now for the entire community and had been eager to get him in touch with the right people to make that happen.

So here they were in downtown Columbus, Wes at his side because Blaine had trusted no one else but his Second to play wing man and bodyguard, and Noelle somewhere in the crowd watching their backs.

Three months ago this city had been Kurt’s home. Today, it pressed too close, rang too loudly in his ears. His skin crawled, hyper aware of each pedestrian that passed him, anxious of being touched as if the first accidental brush might electrocute him. In truth that anxiousness had started the moment they’d gotten in the car and had only increased the further and further they’d driven from home.

He couldn’t smell Blaine here, or the pack. He shouldn’t be this far from them, shouldn’t be outside where anything could get to him or the cub…

He shivered and took a deep breath, doing his best to stifle the feeling of panic tryingto overwhelm him. Wes was staring at him and Kurt got the feeling he wasn’t fooled.

“It’s not too late to go back,” the beta offered, and Kurt clenched his teeth. “This stress isn’t good for the cub.”

“Neither is the government deciding to exterminate us.” He reminded them both and straightened his collar.

A middle aged womanentering the building to their right paused mid step, turning back to stare at them, still holding the door. The funny thing was she was staring right at Kurt as if trying to puzzle out where she’d seen him before, though Kurt was fairly sure he’d never seen her in his life. One sniff let Kurt’s nose know that she was lycan, alpha too, and every nerve he had in his body jangled with alarm at the realization. The intensity of the response was off putting and left his stomach feeling queasy.

Wes, putting a gentling hand on Kurt’s elbow turned to the woman and snapped.

“Can we help you with something?”

“He’s _carrying,_ ” she hissed under her breath, eyes darting about as if she was afraid someone might overhear. Her eyes then stuck on his stomach as if she were trying to see inside him and Kurt had to resist the urge to cradle his middle and hide it from view. He stiffened his spine.

“He’s aware,” Kurt responded, pulling his elbow from Wes’ grasp and striding through the open door. Wes followed closely behind him and the female alpha scrambled to follow after.

“Honey, does your alpha know you’re out and about? You’re not showing yet but there’s not much disguising that smell.”

“He’s well protected, thank you.” Wes told the woman stiffly, and Kurt noticed how he positioned himself so that he was blocking Kurt with his body. She didn’t seem deterred though and Kurt had to wonder why. Was it because they were both betas?

He wanted to ask the nosy woman what business it was of hers what he smelled like or if his mate knew what he was up to, but her closeness was playing on his nerves. The scent of a foreign alpha so close made his stomach churn and his muscles tighten painfully. It was everything he could do not to bare his teeth and growl at her to go away.

She dogged their steps across the lobby all the way to the elevator doors and when Kurt reached for the call button (fourth floor, Penny had told them) she darted forward, reached out as if to grab his arm.

“Oh no Honey, let-”

She never finished though because Kurt saw her reaching for him and he froze, everything inside him narrowing to a single point:

Afraid.

_We’re afraid._

He flinched and stumbled away, everything bursting back into focus, as his teeth elongated in his mouth and a vicious snarl eruptedfrom his chest. Wes didn’t waste any time either, inserting his body between them and grabbing the woman’s reaching hand in an iron grip.

“Back off,” he warned, the grip on her arm turning punishing as she sputtered at him.

“Are you out of your _mind_? Let go-”

“Don’t touch him. Go away!” Wes commanded, the force of dominance behind his words, and the alpha woman shivered, shoulders hunching as her head bowed. She slunk away, joining a crowd of curious onlookers who had paused to watch the confrontation and Kurt’s sensitive ears picked up on her complaining to them.

“I was only trying to help! It’s no wonder people think we’re wild animals, the way their sort behave.”

Over his racing heart he heard a growl rumbled in Wes’ throat, the beta muttering under his breath something about tame-brained collared idiots.

“Are you alright Kurt?” He asked, and he looked like he wanted to reach out and make sure for himself, run his hands over Kurt to check for wounds, but he held himself still and kept his tone soft and concerned. And though Kurt hated how much he’d overreacted, how weak it made him feel not to be able to stomach something so simple as a helping hand, he was grateful that Wes didn’t try.

He could feel Blaine, distant but ever present, his aura alarmed and seeking.

‘ _We’re alright, we’re alright’_ he thought, caressing a trembling hand over the small swell of his belly. _‘we’re okay’._

He couldn’t answer Wes, concentrating on his breathing to still the trembling of his body and stop the urge to be sick. When he felt he could he nodded. Loosening his death grip around his middle he straightened up to meet Wes’ worried stare.

“Are you satisfied now that this is a bad idea?” The beta spoke lowly, gaze going hard once more. “These city people are more dogs than wolves but they can still bite. You smell fertile and you’re a beta alone and unprotected. The next alpha might not have helping you in mind.”

“I’m not alone and I’m not unprotected. There’s you and Noelle, and more importantly I can defend myself. And I’ll be ready next time” Kurt promised, shoulders braced like he expected an attack to come right then. He couldn’t give up now. Wouldn’t go back to Westerville with his tail between his legs and put the future of the pack in jeopardy because he couldn’t handle a little separation anxiety. He had to be stronger than the fear, for all their sakes.

He jabbed the button for the fourth floor and Wes sighed.

 

 

*~*~*~*

 

The last two weeks had seen Jeff Sterling and many others of the pack helping to build. The Alpha had called for them to build a storehouse and a road between it and the northwest end of the forest.

Blaine had decided to solve their food crisis by getting regular shipments back in and Jeff wasn’t sure whether it was Blaine, Kurt or Wes who had come up with the idea to dig a road that would stretch beyond the police barricade, but Jeff’s back didn’t thank any of them.

If he were honest though it was rather ingenious. There was too much forest for the police to effectively surround all of it and the northwest edge bordered a completely different town outside of Westerville’s boarders.

They’d scouted it for several days to confirm that the Worthington police were not patrolling that end as tightly.In fact, other then the occasional cruiser passing by it was unwatched. Under the cover of darkness the shipments could enter through that end and make their way to the storehouse that the other half of the construction team was building.

It was still far from the main camp and they’d have to lug supplies from there, but Blaine had thought better of having more than one road that led directly to the heart of the pack, and Kurt had proposed the idea of using sleds when they needed to send someone out to the storehouse in order at the house or the school.

He saw the wisdom in it, but Jeff could understand why some of the elders weren’t taking to it well.

“Roads and sled teams...” Jeff glanced at the man mumbling on his right, a graying alpha who was tiredly shoveling dirt with sweat glistening his brow. “Next we’ll all be wearing collars. 

Jeff’s eyes flicked to Chandler, because the idea for sled teams had definitely come from Kurt and Chandler was the unofficial president of the Kurt Hummel fan club, but to Jeff’s surprise the other teen stayed silent.

In fact he didn’t appear to have heard at all, his head down as he shoveled dirt with tired repetitive motions. Jeff frowned.

Actually, Chandler had been uncharacteristically quiet all week. There were shadows under his eyes Jeff realized as he scrutinized him, and bruises littering the pale skin of his back.

He looked down right exhausted. Jeff couldn’t help the way his eyes flickered to the beta’s stomach, the mess of scars marring his skin, and he swallowed thickly, a protective sort of anger churning within him because clearly Chandler wasn’t sleeping enough and Adam should have corrected that by now.

“Kheil,” Jeff heard himself snap and Chandler blinked up at him, too slowly for Jeff’s liking. “Why don’t you take a break?”

“Why?” Chandler asked slowly, and of all the responses Jeff could have anticipated it wasn’t an argument.

“Uh, because you’re tired?”

“He’s tired.” Chandler rebutted nodding toward the gray haired alpha. “He’s also old as balls – no offense – but you’re not telling him to take a break.”

Jeff huffed, already feeling his eyes rolling back into his skull. He really should have predicted this. Chandler had gotten even more hellbent to prove that submissives could do everything dominants could do and ten times that (or _whatever_ ) now that Kurt was here backing him. Jeff would be lying if he said it didn’t irritate him a little. Kurt could be excused. He hadn’t been born here, he didn’t really get it yet, but Chandler just loved to be difficult. God help Adam Crawford.

“Oh my god, Chandler, never mind. Excuse me for caring,” the teen alpha grumbled going back to his work.

“No. You’re not excused.” Chandler seethed, sticking his pert little nose in the air even as he drove his shovel into the ground with the kind of vehemence that could only feel personal. Jeff saw the gray haired alpha jump and he laughed.

His laughter was cut short when Chandler raised the shovel high and swung it back down with such force that the handle cracked, the loud sound ringing out through the wood as up and down the line the other workers fell silent.

“You’re stupid Jeff and you’re wrong. You’re just as bad as Adam and every other knotheaded, pea brained, alpha in this pack!” Chandler heaved, getting into Jeff’s face and for once it didn’t spark Jeff’s instinct to fight, because Chandler smelled like beta, distress, and _heartsick_.

Jeff took a hasty step back without thought and Chandler pressed on.

“You think just because someone submits to you suddenly you own them, because they’re less than you and they need you to tell them how to think and how to feel, like they can’t make their own choices, well fuck you! Fuck you and the horse you rode in on, because I don’t _need_ you, and if surviving last month didn’t get it through your thick head nothing ever will!”

Jeff backed straight into something solid, and wet, jumping as water trickled down his back. He turned to see Nick standing there, still holding a large sloshing bucket of water. He wasn’t alone either, at least six others had arrived with water including Adam, who was already setting down the bucket he carried and marching toward the out of control beta with something like determined fury.

“Who the hell do you think you’re talking to?” Nick growled at Chandler, shoving the bucket he carried into the arms of the gray haired alpha who nearly dropped it. And while Jeff couldn’t say there wasn’t something gratifying about Nick getting riled up on his behalf he didn’t really think it was going to make the situation better.

“Nick don’t,” he berated placing a staying hand on the other alpha’s chest. The motion was enough to stop him, Nick’s hand coming up to cover his, though he did not stop glaring at the younger beta.

But Chandler never knew when to quit.

“I can fight my own battles Sterling! I’m not afraid of your little boyfriend, I-”

“Chandler, enough.”

Crawford had reached them now and thankfully the quiet command from his alpha-master was enough to stop the beta in his tracks.

His cheeks flushed bright red with blood, though the furious glint in his eyes did not lessen as he clenched his shaking fists.

“You’re right.” He grit out between his clenched teeth and without needing so much as a prompt he looked right at Jeff and barked. “Sorry for my outburst. I shouldn’t have taken out my temper on you when it’s _him_ I’m mad at.”

Jeff could only gape at him like a fish, truly having no idea anymore what was going on, as Chandler had the gall to turn to his alpha-master and glare.

“Um… yeah, don’t worry about it,” he finally managed to answer, but before he’d even finished Chandler had turned on his heel to stare pointedly at Adam before running off into the wood.

Nick’s mouth had fallen open and he wasn’t the only one shocked by what they’d just witnessed. Jeff watched with baited breath to see what Adam would do, because that kind of disrespect was not tolerable between a master and their protégé, never mind an alpha and their submissive.

But Adam was one of the most level headed alphas that Jeff knew. He was hard to read on the best of days, even now Jeff might not have thought he was bothered at all by what had just happened if not for how tightly he’d clenched his jaw.

“Everybody drink up. We’ve only a few more miles till we reach the treeline and a couple more hours of daylight,” Adam called out to all the gawkers. “We’ll switch out with Blaine’s team when I get back.”

And Jeff’s eyes went wide as the alpha took off after the errant beta.

“Is he _serious,_ I’d have left that brat by himself in the woods all night. No food or water till he could hold a civil conversation with his betters- _oof_.”

Jeff halted Nick’s tirade, grabbing the water bucket from the gray haired alpha and shoving it none to gently into Nick’s chest.

“Shut up. Go give people water.”

“Never thought I’d agree with the likes of him,” the gray haired alpha muttered to himself with a sour look in Nick’s direction. “But in my day a sub knew their place.”

Jeff opened his mouth to say something and paused when Nick nudged him with the water bucket. When he frowned at the other alpha Nick just pushed the water at him again.

‘Y _ou told me to do my job and I’m doing it. You need water.’_

Though Jeff rolled his eyes he couldn’t help the way his irritation melted away and he quickly ducked his head inside to lap up a few mouthfuls before he could betray himself with a smile.

‘ _I meant go give the others water,’_ he reproached, just between them, and Nick scoffed.

‘ _There are six other buckets. I wasn’t even supposed to come but I volunteered because I knew some stubborn alpha would be looking out for everyone but himself.’_

‘ _Awe, Nicky. Did you miss me?’_

‘ _I miss your ass. I want to fuck you but that’s hard to do when we never get to be alone.’_

No longer thirsty Jeff raised his head, wiped his mouth and considered the brown haired alpha with a level lick. Nick was gorgeous, no doubt about it. The sight of him alone could send Jeff’s heart to thudding in ways that were both alarming and off putting considering that he wasn’t supposed to want it. He wasn’t supposed to want another alpha as badly as he wanted Nick; but he did.

He knew what Nick was, all his glaring faults and their seemingly irreconcilable differences. He wasn’t blind or stupid. But the funny thing was, he’d never wanted Nick in spite of those things. He wanted Nick because of it all: because he was Nick. Because he was fierce, and loyal, and damnably sweet under all that bite. Sure he talked tough, but he served Jeff in little ways, always doing shit like securing Jeff his own bucket of giving him the best food off his plate.

There was so much fire in his personality, so little give, that when he did bend-when he gave Jeff his heart and his loyalty and what sweetness the world hadn’t yet wrung out of him- to Jeff it was worth gold.

So it wasn’t exactly poetry, but he’d never really needed that. What he’d needed Nick had already given. He’d chosen Jeff, above all other things, fought and died for him. That was the most powerful feeling in the world. The kind of shit an alphas got drunk off of, so Jeff couldn’t be bothered to care anymore if everyone in the pack knew he submitted to Nick in bed. It didn’t change who Jeff was, and it didn’t alter the truth that Nick Duval was _his._ He’d give Nick that and everything else so long as they could be each others. The rest would come in time.

“Well,” he answered with a slow lick of his lips. “They say you get what you work for.”

 

~*~*~

 

That morning had started like any other for Chandler except that when the wakeup call sounded he’d been one of the last out of bed, the day’s labor compiled with the late night practice sessions with Kurt taking their toll on his body. He’d been surprised when Adam had appeared at the door of his room, expecting him to be at the manor with all the other alpha-masters.

When the last of his roommates had filed out, headed to the showers, Adam had closed the door quietly and Chandler had been kind of curious sure, but more excited than anything else because with everything so busy lately he and Adam hardly ever got moments to court each other and he was as much into morning quickies as the next horny teenager.

He’d said as much, but when he’d gone to kiss the alpha, Adam had pushed him away and said the four most dreaded words in the English language: we need to talk.

Apparently, absence did not make the heart grow fonder in Adam Crawford’s case because he’d somehow gotten the absurd notion in his head that with Chandler’s majority trial coming up they should put a halt to courting.

Apparently Chandler should have some time as an adult to figure out what he wanted – as if he hadn’t wanted the same thing since his first field trip to the practice pen when he was eight, as if Chandler hadn’t practically practiced himself into the grave to pass his entrance exams in the hopes that one alpha would ask for him out of all the other hopefuls, as if there were anyone in the world as bright to Chandler as Adam Crawford was bright – and no, he didn’t get a say. He didn’t get to _choose_ for himself, Adam was letting go of his claim for Chandler’s own good, because alphas knew best.

He was tempted to think that maybe he’d been wrong, that maybe Adam had never loved him as much as Chandler had desperately hoped he would. Maybe he would always be doomed to be something of a kid-brother in the older alpha’s eyes… but he knew that was just the sting of rejection talking. At least he hoped so because otherwise Adam had some serious issues- because wow was it ever taboo to touch your kid brothers the way Adam had been touching him lately.

Not that he’d been complaining. It had been good. Everything had been so right, exactly the way he’d wanted it to be, because he did _know_ his own mind thank you very much. Another ten months might have seen him turn eighteen but it wouldn’t have gifted him with some grand new level of adult insight that five years of fighting at Adam’s side hadn’t already brought.

Chandler hadn’t dreamed it. He hadn’t made it up. Adam really had held him close, called him ‘mine’, sexed him up six ways to Sunday even. That had to mean something right? A person couldn’t just touch you, deep down in your core like that, and not feel anything. It had to mean something.

When Chandler had nearly died, Adam had sounded so relieved, so desperately happy to hear his voice, he’d promised they’d be mates as soon as he passed the damn trial, which was more like a formality now than anything, so Chandler just didn’t get what Adam’s deal was.

The fear that Adam maybe really _didn’t_ love him, at least not the way that Chandler loved him (because he wasn’t stupid, they were too closely bonded for Chandler not to know how much Adam cared) had grated on him all day until he’d just vomited all his rage all over Jeff who, yeah sure, had been annoying with that ‘poor tired baby beta’ bullshit, but it wasn’t like he’d really meant any harm by it.

But Chandler had mad an idiot of himself so he’d apologized because hell if he was gonna let Adam have something to call him childish about, and then he’d run.

Chandler ran until the voices of the others faded. He knew that Adam would catch up to him eventually; at least he hoped that Adam would follow, he’d been disrespectful and hateful in front of everyone. Any other alpha probably would leave him to stew and punish him later for his insolence, but Chandler hoped that Adam would worry about him, would be pulled to his side where Chandler needed him… because he didn’t know what he’d do if he wasn’t.

Letting his exhausted body drop down into the cool grass at the lake’s edge Chandler stuck his snout in and began to desperately lap up water, because the thing about going off in a snit right when the water crew arrived was it left you thirsty enough to drink the entire lake.

When his belly started to ache with fullness he stood back, pink tongue lolling as he panted for breath and water dripped from his fur. And of course that was the moment that he realized that Adam was standing not far behind him, watching silently and waiting for him to be done quenching his throat.

With the sun bleaching his hair and making the sweat on his bare shoulders glisten he looked unfairly fuckable, in Chandler’s expert opinion, but there was nothing warm or inviting about the expression on Adam’s face.

Chandler shivered and Adam arched an eyebrow at him, still waiting. Tail and ears drooping Chandler turned to face him. He knew what the alpha wanted. Shifting still stung, not terribly, but more than it ever had before as patched together tissue and muscle rearranged itself. It twinged like being stretched too thin, a warning that there wasn’t quiet enough of him to go around anymore.

Back on two legs he wobbled, biting his lip to stave of the swell of nausea that met him and the prick of tears he felt as a result to his weakened state. He could hear it all again, Quinn telling him that he might never be able to shift the way he used to, and that he might not be able to carry either.

‘ _Maybe that’s why he doesn’t want me anymore. He knows I’m broken.’_

Dashing the tears away from his eyes before they could spill Chandler stiffened his lip and faced his alpha-master.

“You embarrassed me.” Adam said it like a given, so laden with disappointment that the part of Chandler that would always be a wide eyed child seeing him for the first time and falling head over heels wanted to roll over into the dirt and beg for forgiveness.

But he wasn’t that kid anymore, couldn’t be.

“I’m sorry if speaking my mind embarrassed you alpha. I shouldn’t have lost my temper like that but I meant the things I said.” Chandler said.

“This morning you told me I was too young to know my own mind and that’s _bullshit._ Right now the Alpha is letting sixteen-year-old’s take their majority trials early because we need men and women who can fight, who would give their lives protecting this pack if we were attacked tomorrow. My childhood is over, Adam! It ended when I knelt before our alpha and swore to protect this pack with my life. I made that choice. I won’t let you take it away from me, or my choice to be happy with someone I love because you can’t get over a number!”

Adam stared at him, simply watching as Chandler seethed and Chandler thought for one terrible moment that he might turn and walk away, but no Adam walked toward him until they were toe to toe and Chandler was forced to look up at him (curse the man’s height).

“I know your childhood is over.”

Chandler blinked at him in surprise and Adam reached for a stray strand of his blond hair, holding it between his fingers like it was fragile.

“But I never wanted that for you. I’m proud of you, every day, but if I could keep you somewhere where you’d never know a moment’s pain or struggle I’d do it.”

“If you feel that way why-” Chandler’s voice cracked and he winced. Clearing his throat from the unwanted obstruction he forced the words out, “Why won’t you mark me anymore? Why won’t you mate with me?”

It baffled Chandler even more now, because this close he could _feel_ how much Adam cared, how hard he was trying not to grab Chandler and kiss him and Chandler would totally let him. He’d let Adam do whatever he wanted so long as they were each others.

“Because you should get to be a child. You should get to fall in and out of love and have second thoughts without feeling forced into a permanent bond,” Adam answered only making Chandler more confused.

“Second thoughts? Adam what the hell gave you the idea that I was having second thoughts?”

A dark expression crossed over Adam’s face, one the alpha didn’t look like he could help.

Chandler had spent the first year of his apprenticeship cataloging every expression on his alpha-masters face, down to the most miniscule. In all the years that Chandler had known him he’d never seen Adam look so dangerous.

“Who do you meet at night?” the alpha growled and Chandler blanched.

“What?” he rasped through a suddenly tight throat. “What do you mean?”

“Some time ago I woke from a dream where you died, where your voice didn’t come back from the void, where you just lay there broken and discarded like you didn’t mean the world to anyone… I woke from this dream and I needed to be near you, but you weren’t in your bed...” With each word that Adam spoke the blood drained from Chandler’s face, his heart stopping in his chest with dreadful realization.

“I’ve watched you leave almost every night since then. I don’t follow you because I don’t want to see who it is you’re meeting. I don’t want to know what I’d do if I had to see it for myself.”

Adam’s grip on his shoulder was strong now, stronger than the alpha must realize because Chandler could feel his nails biting, but he didn’t care. All he could hear was the pain in Adam’s voice, hear the things that he was saying and feel the horror of each word, because the alpha had gotten it so horribly wrong.

“I know that’s why you haven’t told me, and I never wanted to be the sort of alpha you’d be afraid of.” With a frustrated sound Adam released his shoulders and took a deep breath, stuffing everything he was feeling back down as Chandler shook his head wordlessly, speechless for the first time in his life.

“I meant what I said too Chan, even if the words hurt you.” Adam began again when he was finally back in control. “It’s okay not to know what you want yet and you should be free to figure it out. You deserve that much at least.”

Adam turned to go, and a million protests leaped onto Chandler’s tongue. He wanted to scream for the alpha to wait, that he could explain everything, but he bit his tongue until he tasted blood.

He couldn’t explain. Not without risking revealing the truth. As it stood, by believing he was sneaking out to meet other alphas Adam had all but agreed to turn a blind eye. Chandler couldn’t give him a reason to look closer at the situation. Could he?

As Adam disappeared into the trees the beta fell to his knees, the strength suddenly leaving him and he gripped the grass in shaking fists.

He could tell Adam that he’d not so much as thought about touching another alpha since Adam had started marking him, he could swear his love up and down until he was blue in the face and beg Adam to trust him… but it wouldn’t make it true.

Because the truth was Adam didn’t trust him. He didn’t know that Chandler’s entire world started and ended with him or he’d never have believed anything so stupid. A hysterical part of Chandler thought he should be grateful for that or Adam would have caught them and he and Kurt would be in a world of trouble.

He wouldn’t betray Kurt’s trust or their mission. His best friend had come to him needing help. The pack needed Kurt to be strong and Blaine was _wrong_ not to help him prepare. Children were arming themselves for war, but Kurt was supposed to avoid the fight. Chandler knew Kurt didn’t have that in him because they were alike that way. They wouldn’t wait for permission to do what they felt was right.

Swallowing back the tears Chandler took a deep breath in and on a shuddering exhale he said to no one but himself, “Okay that sucked.”

He could get through this. Right? So Adam totally sucked, so he thought that Chandler was stupid enough to look at someone else when he had someone like _Adam Crawford_ marking him up, and yeah he was probably going to go home and howl like a kicked cub in private, but the pack was still in danger.

First thing first, he was totally going to get up, grab another shovel, and carry on. They had a road to build, Kurt still needed training, and Chandler Kheil had vowed to serve the best interests of the pack with his life. Only a child took an oath like that and thought it would always be easy.


	9. Faith is having a reason.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This time: Kurt interviews with a writer from the New York times and becomes a bright new voice in subhuman politics and the Hunters take notice. Far from home leading a small group of wolves once again he's put to the test and finds that leadership is far harder than it looks. Meanwhile as Blaine is busy finishing up the road there's trouble brewing in the den and it's not all Sebastian's fault. Did he mention that? Well some of it might be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> __
> 
> You're all I never knew I needed  
> And the heart, sometimes it's unclear why it's beating.
> 
> I guess truth is what you believe in  
> And faith, I think faith is having a reason  
> And love, if your wings are broken  
> Borrow mine so yours can open too.  
> I'm going to stand by you
> 
> Even if we're breaking down  
> We can find a way to break through  
> Even if we can't find heaven.  
> I'd walk through hell with you.  
> ~Stand By You, Rachel Platten

_Columbus, Ohio_

 

By the time that he and Wes were shown into the conference room on level four Kurt had gotten himself back under control. His skin still felt itchy, as if it were crawling beneath his clothes, but it was by and large bearable and that was all he asked for. He wasn’t surprised to see Penelope (call me Penny) Diaz sitting in one of the chairs, and though he didn’t know the man and woman sitting across from her with wary expressions twisting into thin smiles, it wasn’t them who immediately caught his attention. It was the grinning woman sitting next to Penny who was rising from her seat almost as soon as they were ushered in.

“Mercedes!” Kurt gaped at the woman, almost frozen in shock as she rounded the table in a rush, arms extended.

She’d wrapped him up in a hug before he could think to stop her, too stuck on her unexpected presence, so it was too late to prevent the violent flinch that went through his body.

She immediately stepped back, a flash of hurt preceding the wariness that overtook her expression.

To cover, Kurt forcibly ignored the extreme discomfort twisting in his gut to grab the shorter woman by the arms as if nothing were wrong.

“Are you okay?” He demanded to know excitedly, “how have you been since...”

Kurt trailed off, eyes flicking to Penny and the two strangers who had all risen from their seats and were watching the proceedings curiously. With their borders closed Kurt had not seen Mercedes since the night of the conclave. She’d been taken hostage by Cooper when she’d agreed to try and help Lina escape the country and had been injured while in thrall by a wolf they still didn’t have an identity for. Kurt couldn’t help the pained grimace he was sure his face made at the sight of the raised scars peaking out from under the collar of the woman’s shirt.

He wanted to pull her shirt out of the way and get a good look at them, maybe even get a few soothing licks in, but given their location and the state of his nerves it was an urge best left stifled.

“I’m fine Kurt,” she answered, squeezing his arms and it took everything Kurt had not to wince again. His need to pull away from her proximity was so strong his teeth were practically jangling with it.

Thankfully Wes chose that moment to tap Mercedes on the arm and open his wide for an embrace. She looked somewhat surprised, but pleased by the gesture and readily let go of Kurt to wrap Wes up in a bracing hug.

“It’s good to see you Mercedes.” The beta greeted her with a warm smile. “We didn’t expect to see you here.”

“Well I’m out a job now so long as the cafe is closed, so I’ve been helping Penny out at the youth center.” she explained nodding toward Penny who took the last few steps separating them with a warm smile of welcome.

“And I thought it would make things easier on you, to have a friendly face here.” Penny explained. “This has all got to be very daunting for you.”

“Something like that,” Kurt agreed nonchalantly and Penny nodded. Turning she gestured to the other woman and the as yet unintroduced man at her side.

“I want to introduce Ms. Molly Fields, the founder and Chairmen of Al-Lys United and Steve Moore-”  
Penny gestured to each in turn and Steve stepped forward, offering his hand to shake as he explained with a bright grin that he was a junior writer for the New York Times.

Kurt shook his hand firmly, fighting the urge to gag in distaste as the pungent scent of the mans cologne mixed with the headiness of the scent of want practically secreting from the man’s pores.

It didn’t smell the same way that arousal did, but it was desire nonetheless, so keen it bordered on greed. Steve’s brown eyes coveted Kurt’s movements as he turned to shake the hand that Ms. Fields had offered.

“Lets all have a seat.” She was a severe looking woman, her graying hair cut into an equally severe bob, her features naturally tight that gave her an aristocratic flair that she undoubtedly used to her advantage in business. She took control of the room with a professional efficiency that screamed money at Kurt far more than her sharp but reasonably modest wardrobe. He tried to bolster his flagging confidence by reminding himself that he wasn’t just some bumpkin from Lima anymore. He was Kurt Hummel, Matcă of Pack Westerville and that meant something in the world. At least, if he had his say, it was going to.

As he settled himself he took slow covert breaths, trying once more to settle the feeling of sickness in his stomach. There was still that insistent niggling of fear and discomfort at the back of his mind but focusing on his breathing seemed to help, as well as allowing his mind to linger on his bond with Blaine. It was quiet, and too distant for his liking, but it was solid and undeniably soothing.

It was quiet around the table with Wes patiently watching Kurt, allowing him to lead, and the humans surrounding them in a semi circle watched expectantly; each party waiting for the other to speak first.

Kurt waited it out, because he might not be sure how he was going to convince all of humanity that lycans were something not to fear, but he was sure that when it came to negotiations even the appearance of having an upper hand could be your best friend.

“Well, let’s get started shall we?” Molly began softly with a slight twitch to her upper lip. “You might not be aware of it Mr. Hummel but I run this organization primarily out of pocket. The government remains divided on the issue of subhumans, leaning more and more on the side of hostile every day. So you see, Al-Lys has survived and thrived largely due to my own bullheadness. I’m a very determined woman Kurt, but for all of my efforts I’ve never managed to get so much as a phone call from the Westerville Alphas.”

Kurt raised a brow in question but said nothing, sensing that she wasn’t quite finished and her lip twitched again.

“Though most of our work is with lycans and those subhumans who choose to live among humans- tame I believe you call them- I’m not unaware of the Anderson family’s significance in the lycan community.” She began again. “I’ve reached out to their alphas on past occasions and have been firmly shut out. Yet Penny would have me believe that not only do you have access to their Alpha, but that you want to do some sort of tell all.”  
She waited, and this time he knew she expected an answer.

“Not a tell all. I’m not out for money or any sort of fame Ms. Fields and my agreement to partner with you and speak to the press-” Kurt glanced over to the reporter who had pulled out his phone and a small blue notepad, poised in wait. “-is contingent on keeping my private life as private as possible.”

Molly pursed her lips as she considered his words. After a long moment she sighed.

“Forgive me, but I’m skeptical of that.”

“Skeptical of what exactly?” Kurt countered and she was quick to answer, words blunt as a blow.

“Skeptical that the son of a mechanic, from the middle of nowhere Ohio, has ever even met Blaine Anderson, let alone has anything accurate to tell the world about what happened last month.”

“Oh Kurt knows Blaine alright.” Mercedes was quick to defend with high dudgeon. “He’s-”

Kurt grabbed her leg under the table and interjected quickly, “-I’m involved with him.”

It occurred to him almost too late that Mercedes could let it slip that he wasn’t human anymore and that was a secret that far too many of their cards were resting on.

Thankfully, though Mercedes furrowed her brow in confusion at him, she stayed mercifully quiet. Steve scribbled something down on the small notepad he’d set before himself and Kurt grit his teeth. He knew some level of honesty about his relationship was required for him to have any clout in this arena but he hadn’t exactly wanted to lead with that foot.

“When you say involved, what do you mean?” Ms. Fields asked.

“I mean that we’re together romantically and have been for over a year.” That was stretching it considering that eleven months out of the time that they’d known each other Blaine had been a dog and romantic wasn’t exactly how Kurt would have described their relationship up until recently, but humans cared far more about the numbers when it came to stuff like that than lycans did. The fact that he’d known Blaine as a man less than four months wasn’t going to impress anybody if they knew. It would probably do more to hurt them actually.

 _‘You went from a guy with a perfectly normal life to this in less than four months’_ some insidious voice whispered in the back of his mind. ‘What made you think you could do this?’

“It doesn’t scare you, dating a wild wolf?” Steve asked and Kurt snapped out of his troubled thoughts to stare at him, not completely understanding the question. When Kurt didn’t answer Penny clarified with an embarrassed cough.

“You have to understand, to the families who have assimilated Blaine and his people seem pretty wild.”

Next to him Wes snorted, and Kurt could feel the disdain rolling off him but the other beta kept his peace, seemingly content to let Kurt handle his own affairs so long as they did not interfere with Blaine’s orders for Wes to guard him. While it wasn’t exactly help, Kurt supposed it was the best he could hope for. Wes didn’t think there was anything to be gained from trying to work with humans any more than Blaine did. Probably less.

 _‘And why are you so sure they can be reasoned with?’_ That scornful voice in the back of his mind asked, clearly content to beat him from both ends. _‘They hated you when you were perfectly human, so why would they ever accept you now? They’re just going to hate you twice as much and now there’s no one to stop them hunting you by calling it a hate crime. It’s not a crime to kill a wild animal. You never should have left Blaine and the den.’_

Kurt clicked his teeth together and straightened in his seat, riding out the sudden swell of anxiousness, finally recognizing that voice for what it was. More of that separation anxiety, that instinct in his wolf that wanted nothing better than to dig a hole in the ground and hide away from the world while he was carrying. Understanding it helped bolster his spirits enough to soldier through it, because nothing had changed. He still had a job to do.

He stared right at Steven Moore, the reporter watching him steadily, the grip on his pen betraying his eagerness almost as much as the scent of his sweat and Kurt smiled at him, for it was show time and nobody could put on a show like he could.

“Do you have a girlfriend Mr. Moore?” Steve nodded and opened his mouth, the edges wrinkled in confusion, but Kurt didn’t wait to hear whatever he might have said. “I ask, because we’re a nation at war, and yet currently the number of women murdered by their own partners is double that of the casualties we’ve suffered in a war zone.”

It was quiet, everyone at the table listening intently and Kurt went on confidently. He did miss performing if only because he had a performers innate love of a captive audience, so sue him.

“In all the years you’ve been approaching women Mr. Moore, looking for someone to share your time with, I bet you’ve never once thought of yourself as a predator, let alone something she should fear- a bigger threat to her than all the monsters you could dream up- but history doesn’t lie. I imagine it scared her, meeting you somewhere alone that first time. She probably told her friends where you were going, had them call during the meal to check up on her, kept touching that bottle of mace on a key chain her dad gave her, just to feel better knowing it was there...”

Penny was nodding silently, brow furrowed as if remembering a date just such as the one he was describing. Molly just sat and listened, that one corner of her mouth tilting slightly upward.

“The important point I want to make sure everyone understands Steve is that I’m not extraordinary.” Kurt spread his hands plaintively. “I haven’t done anything that men and women like your girlfriend haven’t already been doing for years, and Blaine isn’t any more or less dangerous just because he happens to be lycan. There are a lot of people angry about what happened last month, and they should be. But because of that anger and how far some are willing to go in the name of revenge, Blaine can’t come forward to speak for himself. So I want to. I want to set the record straight.”

For a moment, as his words died, no one spoke but then Molly huffed quietly, what sounded suspiciously like a breathless chuckle and murmured. “You have the floor Mr. Hummel. Please, set the record.”

“How did you meet Blaine?” Steve sat up straighter in his chair and just like that they were off, Kurt Hummel had just become the voice of Pack Westerville and so much more besides that, and the reality was heady, had his heart thumping hard within his chest but he looked unflappable as he met the reporters question head on. He and Blaine had prepared for this.

“Last year my brother convinced me to get a dog. I’m not much of a dog person, too much upkeep, and Blaine isn’t too fond of them either. It’s a wolf thing, they’re all big and tough and in love with that ‘Big bad wolf’ persona and can’t stand the thought of being compared to something that would lick its own balls and follow a human around like the sun shines out their ass.”

Mercedes snorted a laugh and Kurt waited for the chuckles to die down before he continued to weave his story. Their story: his and Blaine’s. He was offering it in the hopes that they would be seen and accepted by their neighbors as not so strange, not so foreign. It’s a love story really, just like all other love stories. Kurt did not have to act the fondness that crept into his voice as he let the memories rise to the forefront of his mind, let their comforting warmth wrap around him and his audience.

“Blaine was at the pet rescue, just as unhappy to be there as I was. Blaine’s gorgeous, don’t get me wrong, but his eyes were what got me. It’s true, I expected to see an animal, but I didn’t. I saw a man, and I’m so glad I listened to my instincts and decided to take the chance that I could be wrong, because Blaine Anderson is without a doubt one of the kindest, bravest, most _human_ , human beings I’ve ever met and my life… my life would…” Kurt swallowed unable to quite find the words and what he settled on was not a pretense, but an honest conviction. “He’s my spring.”

He’d not understood mângâiere before becoming lycan, his human biology not equipped for sensing and utilizing bonds the way that lycans were, but humans could still feel it. They had hearts and minds after all. They still bonded with one another. They just needed help _seeing_ it. So Kurt showed them. He let the bond open just that little bit, just enough to feel Blaine close to him, to have the scent of him tickling his nose and the familiar thud of his heart beating alongside his own.

“Growing up I was bullied and made to feel small because I was different. I wanted so badly to prove everybody wrong, to be and do something great with my life; but when it didn’t happen like I’d planned… there were days I didn’t want to go on. But I realize now that my life, my summer, will be whatever I make of it.

I’ll achieve something great or I won’t, I’ll be remembered or I wont… whatever I do with my moment when it comes is up to me and it won’t come easy. But it’s all so worth it, because you’re in winter one minute and then out of nowhere, there’s spring and he knows all the lyrics to Lion King. He’s prideful and a little vain, and God he can be so stubborn, but he’s so painfully good where it counts and good to you. He thinks the world belongs to you. He thinks you’re all summer all the time. Let him hold you long enough and you start to think maybe you could be...”

Kurt took a deep breath, letting the intensity of the bond fade, coming back to himself and the room with a slow blink. Mercedes and Penny were both watching him with something like awe, a betraying sheen of moisture in Penny’s eyes. Even Molly could not remain unaffected. She’d turned her head slightly to stare anywhere but at him, and Kurt couldn’t help but notice that she’d reached up to touch her collarbone as if to protect her throat. It was odd, but he didn’t stop to dwell on it, pressing his point while he still held them all in awe.

“If you knew Blaine as I do you’d know he isn’t capable of doing what he’s being accused of. You’d know that he has stood between you and those wolves who would harm you without a second thought.” Molly turned to meet his eyes as he spoke, searching his gaze and finding his firm resolve. “He’s a good friend to have in your corner, but trust me. You don’t want him as an enemy.”

  
~*~*~

 

_The sound of splintering wood and raised voices jolted Myla into wakefulness so suddenly that she nearly toppled onto her face. She’d been standing watch over Lady Morgana as the healer had seen to the sick girl, whose mother had come to fetch her after the fall of dark to plead for the life of her eldest child who was deep in the clutches of a terrible illness._

_What the villagers were coming to call ‘the devils due’ only Morgana and her magic seemed to have any chance against, but the villagers were slow to seek her aid, fearing the condition of their souls if the sought the touch of a woman whispered to be a witch._

_It was a damn waste. The dead were only piling higher outside the city walls. If only the people would listen to Morgana and at the very least burn the blasted bodies, then maybe there was a chance they’d survive this._

_Morgana had tended the girl long into the night, finally taking her rest when the child’s fevered cries had quieted. Eventually Myla must have nodded off herself, her presence as a guard mainly for show and the king’s peace of mind. Who would harm them in Camelot?_

_She should not have been so trusting. She was still scrambling to her feet, reaching for her sword when a group of armored knights strode into the tiny hut, followed by the priest who resided over the church. His red robes gleamed in the flickering torchlight as he scowled down at the sight before him of Morgana hovering protectively over the child, the girl’s mother and father huddled in the corner with the other children as if a pack of wolves had come charging through the door._

_“Giano,” Morgana greeted the scowling priest softly, rising slowly to her feet. “To what do we owe the pleasure?”_

_“Be quiet woman,” the Father barked. He gestured imperiously towards the leading pair of guardsmen who had accompanied him, whom Myla recognized from the practice yard as Tomas and Brutes. They were already inching toward the girl on the pallet even as the priest explained his presence there and his intent._

_“I have written to his Holiness. He wishes to put an end to this black curse, this witch’s death.” He stared poisonously at Morgana as he bit out. “All those bearing the devils mark shall be burned at the stake.”_

_Myla’s heart dropped into her stomach as the girl’s mother let out a sharp wail, which was quickly stifled by her husband. She didn’t know what possessed her to challenge a man as powerful as the Father but she found herself stepping forward, heard herself cry out._

_“Nay! You cannot!”_

_“Silence boy!” The priest thundered over her and it was like a slap. For a jarring moment Myla had almost forgotten. She was becoming far too used to long hours with Morgana, who saw her as she was no matter what shape she was in. To Giano Medici she was just Melwas ‘the strange’, a second son from a minor house who openly consorted with a witch._

_“Dare you defy the will of God?” the father barked and Myla clamped her mouth shut, shaking with rage._

_Of course she did not. Who did? She more than anyone had to be careful. Strangeness was no one’s friend and she was stranger than most._

_Turning back to the guards the Father ordered them sharply once more to take the girl away and Myla watched helplessly as the child was lifted roughly from her pallet and slung over Brutes shoulder._

_She’d never felt so helpless, or so cowardly._

_“Merida! My Merida!”_

_The girl’s mother let out a keening cry, so loud even her husbands shaking hands could not stifle the wretched sound and Myla blinked back tears of despair as the woman collapsed and the baker tried to hold her upright. Their other children crowded around them looking caught between shock and a floodgate of tears._

_Morgana rushed to the woman’s side, clucking her tongue in a sympathetic manner and making soothing sounds as she gripped the woman tightly._

_“Shh now. All will be well. I will go to the king. Arthur will put an end to this.” Morgana said the last with a venomous glare at the back of the guards as they exited the hut with the girl swinging listlessly like a doll. The priest however halted in the door, a dark frown creasing his brow and Myla’s heart leaped in her chest with hope._

_Yes, of course! Arthur would stop this. Arthur was a fair and gentle ruler. He’d never allow something like this to continue. He must not know, but they would tell him._

_“This is a matter for the church.” The Father insisted._

_“I’ll fetch his Majesty if it is your wish Lady Morgana.” Myla offered quickly, not daring to look at the Father but feeling his dark stare on her back._

_“It is my wish.”_

_Almost as soon as Morgana had uttered the words Myla had turned and fled the baker’s hut, racing for the castle._

_‘He will try to stop you.’ Morgana’s voice flooded her mind and Myla’s mouth, in turn, flooded with the taste of fear._

_She darted behind another hut and closed her eyes, mumbling the incantation that Morgana had taught her. She could barely hear the words over her thundering heart, but she felt the moment her body changed, when her leathers were replaced by softer sheeth and gown. She couldn’t do anything about the chain mail, almost two years of practice and she still could not get the metals to change with her._

_She discarded the heavy garment with a huff, dropping it forlornly into the mud and hoping she’d be able to achieve it later. Armor was expensive and the allowance from her father minimal._

_Her hair was tumbling down her shoulders in disarray that Kay would have called wanton, but she had no time to pleat it. She gripped the hilt of her sword with trembling hands and darted out from behind the hutt on swift feet, ignoring the jabs from rock and bramble that assaulted her with each step (she always made the mistake of imagining herself in fine flimsy things when she cast the spell). She had to make it back to the keep and get Arthur before they could burn that girl alive. What were some cuts on her feet in comparison to that?_

  
~*~*~*~

 

The meeting had gone better than Kurt had expected. He’d been happy to know that Penny and Al-Ly’s were willing to get involved and to help the pack be heard but had hadn’t known what to expect after the initial interview. Steven was excited to get something in shape for his Editor whom he assured Kurt would want to make use of the story. Many were calling the events of the month previous an act of terrorism and it had sparked a wave of subhuman reform bills in congress.

No one like Kurt had ever existed before to their knowledge, a human with provable ties to the ungoverned portions of lycan society, at least not anyone willing to come forward and speak. Steven was talking about front page news, follow up interviews, and press junkets. Penny asked whether he’d considered working with any of the candidates for congress. With elections coming up Kurt had to agree that it wasn’t smart for the lycan community to stay out of it any longer.

His head was swimming with details, unforeseen paths stretching in front of him and doors opening up that he dared not walk through, for there was no telling what lay beyond them; and yet walk he must. He and Blaine had to move the pack into the future somehow. But which path should they take?

They were wrapping up, Kurt agreeing to think on their proposals and talk things over with Blaine when the warning came from Noelle.

_“Woman: mid-thirties, entered a couple minutes after you, keeps finding reasons to linger in the lobby.”_

Though he betrayed nothing outwardly as Kurt fielded the last questions from Ms. Fields about possible future involvement with Al-Lys, Wes clenched his hands over the arms of his seat and replied.

_“Possibly she’s curious?”_

There was a moments pause and then a surge of aggression over the bond that had Kurt’s teeth tingling.

_“Negative, she’s a Hunter and she’s here for Kurt. She’s on the phone with someone. Must not know I’m with you.”_

Though it was the whole point of having Noelle follow behind them at a distance and keep a lookout Wes did not seem certain.

_“Or she wants you to let your guard down. Are there others?”_

_“Haven’t spotted any others. If her conversation is anything to go by she’s just supposed to question him. They’ve gotten wind that Blaine took a mate, and he’s here claiming to have ties with him. We should have expected them to do the math.”_

Kurt swallowed past the lump of fear in his throat, doing his best to keep his smile pleasant as Molly wrapped up the meeting. Kurt had told Chief Swanson that he was involved with Blaine and now Ms. Fields and Mr. Moore knew. He had no idea who else they might have shared the nature of their meeting that day with, and it didn’t even matter because as soon as that article was published everyone with a stake in lycan-human politics was going to know he mattered to Blaine even if they couldn’t pinpoint for certain the exact nature of their relationship.

They’d known he’d be a target, he reminded himself. They’d known this was the risk and agreed it had to be taken.

Kurt had no idea how the Hunter Order worked but he imagined they had a network that would take interest in something like that. Especially because Kurt was supposed to be a human alone and mostly unprotected.

 _“I can take her out Wes.”_ Noelle assured, that eagerness for the hunt thrumming over the bond laced strongly with a familiar protectiveness. Kurt couldn’t fault her for the bloodlust, even as it made something in his stomach churn. He had to fight the urge he had to grip his belly protectively. She was a guard for a reason, and he was the Matcă. She’d gladly rip out this Hunter’s throat before letting her within three feet of Kurt. It made something within him feel better, despite the anxiousness growing steadily worse because in truth nothing was going to really make him feel better in a situation like this except maybe Blaine, and he was far away.

 _Stupid. So stupid_ … that tiny little voice began to panic once more. Why had he left the den? Why had he left Blaine? Kurt bit his tongue and battled it back down, fighting for control of his own emotions because he needed that surely if he was to have any control over the situation.

 _“No. Noelle, stand down!”_ He winced as the thought crashed through their circle of minds like a wrecking ball and beside him Wes turned to stare intensely at him. It was weirdly all the more intense for how neutral he kept his facial features. Kurt tried to explain. _“We can’t murder somebody in the lobby!”_

 _“They want to know who you are and if you can be used against Blaine, and she’s not planning on taking you out for coffee and asking nicely.”_ Wes reminded him, as if Kurt needed reminding of the danger when fear was practically slamming through his veins. The other beta could likely smell it on him because he’d inched closer, shifting himself to shield Kurt from the door at their backs and that realization just made Kurt all the more determined not to give in to the emotion.

  
_“If we make a scene trying to kill some nameless woman they’ll spin it against us. We will never have another shot at convincing anybody we’re not monsters!”_

_“Then so be it!”_ The thought from Wes snapped through Kurt’s consciousness like a bullet. He flinched as pain splintered through his head but thankfully the others were distracted by Wes, who had been largely silent up until then, suddenly getting to his feet.

“Ladies, gentlemen. I’m afraid we have to go now. Mr. Hummel has somewhere he needs to be.” They stared in confusion as Wes placed a hand on Kurt’s arm, just a hand, but Kurt could feel the beta’s will pressing down on him, urging him to obedience.

“Is this your bodyguard Kurt?” Steve asked curiously, eyes shifting between the hand Wes had on Kurt’s arm and Wes’ stony expression. “Do you feel like you’re in some type of danger?”

That was a line of speculation that Kurt didn’t care for Mr. Moore traveling down. Rising as gracefully as he could manage with Wes hovering over him Kurt offered their curious audience a sheepish smile.

“I felt given the nature of what I have to say and how angry everyone is right now that it was better to be safe than sorry.”

Molly nodded, a considering expression upon her face, and rose from her seat. Penny and the others followed suit and one by one Kurt shook their hands, thanking them for their time and offers to help.

Kurt didn’t appreciate being all but frog marched to the door but he let it slide for the sake of keeping up the appearance that all was well, but his heart was racing and his mind racing even faster for a way to avoid the calamity headed straight for them and still successfully complete his mission.

He was their party leader, he had to think of a way not to compromise the mission or himself…

“ _She’s armed with what looks like a tranq gun; she’s got eyes on the elevator Wes,”_ Noelle reported and as the taste of copper flooded his tongue Kurt realized he’d bit through his lip. _“Permission to hunt Sir?”_

 _“No!”_ Kurt barked, though the question had been for Wes and not for him. And that, above everything else, is what gave him his clarity back. His body might be twisting itself in a pretzel of anxiety but he still had his mind, he still had his will. He was here to help his pack whether they realized the importance of what he was doing or not and he was the leader, not Wes, and if he let Wes taking control become a precedent he’d lose. They’d all lose so much more than they could possibly realize.

 _“I said stand down Noelle.”_ He pulled his arm out of Wes’ grip, teeth bared at the beta in warning. It still thrummed painfully in his chest a bit, threading each word with alpha-control, but Blaine’s power (their power now) was there at the ready, lying within him like a well waiting to be drawn on.

He felt Noelle’s chastised cringe over the bond but was appeased by how swiftly the feeling of her submission followed. Beside him Wes’ eyes flashed with something dangerous, but the emotion was brief and swiftly replaced with resignation. While Kurt didn’t feel anything like submission coming from him he was silent in wait. That was all Kurt really needed.

 _“Elevator is out. What are our other exit options?”_ He asked, and Noelle was as prompt and professional as ever.

_“There’s a door on the first floor, left side of the building, leads out to a loading dock. I saw a staircase, looked like it went up to your floor.”_

_“Good. We’ll find it. Meet us there with the car.”_

They moved quickly down the hall towards the side of the building where Noelle had seen the staircase, conscious of being stopped by the others who might have wrapped up whatever post conversation had been had following their swift departure. Kurt had no idea what the Hunter would do when Penny and the others exited the elevator without them in sight but he didn’t want to find out.

“This is a mistake.” Wes whispered lowly beside him, teeth clenched. “It’s smarter to kill her.”

“Drop it! We’re not killing anybody!” Kurt snarled, the other beta’s closeness and the scent of his pent up aggression playing heavily on his nerves. Wes wouldn’t bow and he was angry, therefor he was a threat.

For a moment he had the dizzying urge to extend teeth and claws and just bite. He blinked, stumbling as they finally reached what looked like a stair case at the long end of the hall. This was Blaine’s best friend! Kurt trusted him, liked him, so where on earth had that instinct even come from?

With a surprising amount of gentleness for the tension lingering between them Wes pushed open the door to the stair case and put a steadying hand on Kurt’s back as he wobbled through it on shaking legs.

Kurt took a deep breath, straightening himself up and Wes withdrew his hand.

They took to the stairs, steady and quick but not quite a run just yet, and Kurt looked over at Wes and said, “We can’t play into their hands. We’ve done what we set out to do and now we’re getting out of here.”

“She’ll follow us,” Wes countered with an edge of growl to his tone. “And they’re never alone Kurt.”

Kurt gritted his teeth but thought hard, because Wes was right. It might not end with making it to the car. Even as he thought it Noelle’s voice rang through both their heads.

“I’m here, but there’s a car parked across the street. He’s on a cell phone. Been parked there since you pulled up. Could be her accomplice.”

Damn it. Wes looked at him with one arched eyebrow as if to ask ‘what now’ and Kurt thought franticly for a moment more. The Hunters would follow them. They couldn’t lead them back to the forest with the construction on the road going on. The Pack was vulnerable. Kurt had to draw the target away from them and he was the target so… it clicked, just as they reached the bottom level, the glowing red exit sign above the metal door a welcome sight.

They needed to do more than run, they needed to send a message and for that they needed space and the element of surprise. There was no place for that like home turf.

~*~*~*~

_Romania, Carpathian Mountains._

Tina breathed in deeply, drawing in the scents of pine and spruce, and flicked her tongue out to taste the cool mountain air, smiling as the scents of bell-flower and orchids tickled the back of her throat.

The temple garden was the only place she could truly find a moments peace, away from the noise and the torturous scent of blood.

She swallowed thickly, her throat constricting as her stomach twisted in a hunger pain that she dutifully ignored.

Nearly a month now since waking, and still she refused to feed voluntarily. The sisters force fed her, lulling her gently with their rhythmic voices and powerful magic until her mind went blank and she simply fell into a daze, accepting the wrist of whatever thrall they had summoned for her meal. They told her it was better this way, better that she learned to accept herself, and better that she tamed the hunger before it ruled her.

She shivered, suddenly finding the temperature much colder than it actually was, the serenity of the temple garden fading around her as memory rushed in.

She might be new, but she was not new to the world.

She’d had a lover before this, but he was not here now.

Her name was Tina Cohen Chang. She’d been human once. She had a family somewhere, but their names and faces were blurry. She could recall them; it was just that she could not muster a reason as to why she should. Too immediate was the thirst crawling up from her belly and squeezing her throat.

It wreaked havoc on her, her ears chiming with the sound of wind, trees, birds, and running water…

Water water everywhere and not a drop to drink.

She didn’t need water. That was for cattle, for food, she needed blood warm and rich and salty sweet on her tongue, revitalizing her cells, strengthening her body, flooding her mind and spirit with the power of enemies vanquished…

She clenched her hands into fists, driving the distracting thoughts away.

Her name was Tina; she’d been human once. As Brittany kept reminding her: Fish are friends, not food.

She curled her lips in a smile, longing suddenly to see her coven sister. Brittany was the only familiar face that she had. The woman had been there at her wakening and stayed with her now to see her through her transition. Tina had not seen Mike since that terrible night in Westerville, not since she’d been bleeding profusely and hoping to die.

She knew that Brittany made the journey down to the villages upon occasion to give him a report on her well-being. Being male he was not allowed to stay in the temple with the Sept Sisters. They’d listened to his plea for her life, struck some sort of deal with them that no one seemed to think Tina had a right to know about, and then he’d left her. Brittany had stayed. Tina was glad.

She’d have gone mad if she’d woken up alone in this place, lost to herself.

Tina did not remember dying, anymore than she remembered being buried or what the Sisters had done to change her, but she remembered the waking.

It had boon cool and dark, buried beneath a thin layer of soil, and for a moment it had almost been peaceful. But then the terror had struck her, and then the hunger, ripping at her insides and digging into her with a vengeance as if each and every last cell in her body knew the meaning of thirst.

“It’s the conversion. It changes your body, but it takes a lot of energy. You just need to eat.”

Brittany had tried to explain it, tried to hold her hand through the horrible pain of it, the terrible education of true starvation. She’d never truly known what it meant to be hungry before this, to know a hunger so deep it carved holes in you, held you so tight you felt it would crack your bones.

Her teeth, sharp and elongating in her mouth, pricked her bottom lip and Tina winced.

Time to focus on something else.

She turned toward the sound of flowing water and followed it toward where the stream flowed through the center of the garden. There was a small barred opening for it along the west wall of the garden, were it continued its trickle down the mountainside.

She slowed her walk as she neared it, finding that she was not as alone in the garden as she’d thought.

Two women stood by the waters edge, the tall black woman with her hair twisted in a curtain of tiny braids she recognized as one of the ones Brittany had called Valkyrie.

“They’re strong, like Sire, and they can shape shift like he can. They’re all supposed to be dead.” Brittany had said, and then they’d looked at each other and Tina had laughed for the first time in what felt like years; because weren’t they all?

The woman with her Tina did not recognize. She was beautiful, as all the Valkyrie seemed to be, even if her teeth were a little crooked when she smiled. She was pale in their way, with hair so brown it was nearly black. When she laughed, as she was doing now with Fury, her blue eyes danced.

Their voices, low as they were, drifted easily to Tina’s ears.

“If we do as you’re suggesting Fury we might as well burn them all in their beds.” the other woman was saying to her dark skinned companion, though not without fondness, and though Tina had only had a single interaction with her and caught rare glimpses of her within the temple, Tina would have bet money that the way Fury’s mouth seemed to soften around the edges, was reserved solely for her companion.

“These Hunters are like rats, Justice,” Fury replied, to the woman Tina assumed called herself Justice. Justice was smiling sadly at Fury now, stepping closer to the other woman until their breath mingled.

“You always did believe it was better to build from the ash than to try and fix what was broken.”

“And you never knew when to give up on the dead.” Fury accused, all softness bleeding from her. “Why did you wait so long to wake? Did you not hear our calls?”

Tina tensed, every nerve in her body wanting to back away. The discussion between the two women was clearly private, ripe with so much meaning to both of them that they had not even heard her blundering up the path. She stayed still, fearing that any movement now would draw their attention to her.

“No.” Justice murmured in reply. “Though I suppose I must have, somewhere in the deep and dark of sleep… I came when I could, Fury.”

“Oh you must have been busy.” Fury scoffed, teeth flashing in her mouth. “It must have been nice in Hel’s hall, with your sweet little family returned to you once more, nice enough to forget the oaths we made to each other.”

“Fury. Don’t.” Justice warned softly, but for all that Tina did not doubt the danger in her warning.

“He is dead!” Furry yelled at her, getting up in the other woman’s face in a way that had Tina taking a step back no matter what her fears. “We were not made to swallow dust at the whims of either monsters or men! We can be greater than what they tried to make of us. You were the one who made me believe that! But you let him make you weak -”

A growl, wounded and bordering on violent tore from Justice’s throat and Tina flinched as the pale skinned Valkyrie grabbed her companion by the throat and slammed her bodily into the dust.

Tina watched in stupefied horror as slowly Justice stood, leaving the other woman to gasp and groan where she lay on the ground, clutching at her windpipe where the other Valkyrie’s nails had torn her flesh.

“Don’t.” Justice hissed through her gleaming fangs, with the crack of finality, before her eyes flickered over to Tina who was watching silent and fearfully. Nobody spoke. Then, the Valkyrie’s shoulders slumped as once again a deeply rooted sadness overtook the warmth of what would have been a merry blue gaze. Slowly she turned back to Fury, who had sat up but made no other move to pick herself off the ground.

“...But for what it’s worth. I’m sorry Fury. I never meant to leave you alone.”

And without saying anything more the woman who called herself Justice turned and walked away.

Tina clutched her chest and tried to remember how to breathe. Her stomach twisted once more, not with fear but a continual reminder of hunger.

“You need to feed fledgling.” Fury’s voice snapped at her and Tina jumped, finding the woman suddenly behind her, looking whole and healthy as if she had not just been tossed about like a toy.

Tina swallowed a terrified whimper. The hunger was always there (it never went away). She was never forgiving Michael Chang for this. Not ever.

  
~*~*~

_Westerville, Ohio_

 

Sebastian was hot, sticky and irritated from the day’s work when Terri swept in to prove to him once and for all that he’d be crazy to ever consider settling down with an omega. What with being regulated to watching the den Sebastian had not expected to have to break a sweat that day, not like those poor saps Blaine had working on the roads.

Keeping an eye on the kid was usually easy (he clung to Kurt and Blaine and when he wasn’t able to do that he sat around morosely waiting for one of them to come back) and Sebastian had been looking forward to forcing Nick to pull his weight for once and finding a tree somewhere to curl up under and catch up on his beauty sleep.

But that morning Benito had been in a snit since Anderson and Hummel had left him with the denmaids, Anderson to oversee the road project and Hummel off to play diplomat among the humans; and Mindy Keihl and the other denmaids had other ideas it seemed about how Sebastian should spend his time.

He’d arrived at his post to relieve Nick from the night shift as usual just as she and the other denmaids had arrived. They weren’t moved in yet, as there was a lot of old furnishings to move out and they wouldn’t have the new things until they got their first shipment in, but each morning Mindy and the others arrived promptly before breakfast to help Anderson and his mate get themselves and the kid ready (so that they actually made it to breakfast on time for once) and then spent the rest of the day renovating the Alpha wing with the help of some of the house omegas while one of the younger denmaids took the kid and kept him from getting underfoot.

Usually Sebastian stuck pretty close to the boy and his sitter and practiced the fine art of sleeping with his eyes open, but that morning Mindy had thrust a hammer into his hand and declared that she was too far along to get involved with the heavy construction and to make use of himself.

“You talked real big about proving yourself and being a part of this community. We’ll see about that now won’t we? Put that alpha rage to some use won’t you and smash that wardrobe over there. It’s hideous.”

And that was how, challenge thrown, Sebastian found himself spending his morning and the greater part of the afternoon smashing furniture into little bits in the beta suite while Kurt’s denmaids sorted through the mess and hauled out the piles of broken wood.

It might have seemed like a waste to some, but the reality was the wood could be sorted and reused to craft what furnishings Kurt couldn’t get shipped in safely, as well as for other uses and other families; and it wasn’t as if he or Blaine could just sell the shit on eBay or take it to a pawn shop. Not anymore.

It was not how Sebastian would have preferred to spend his morning, but he had to admit it was a bit cathartic to swing with all his considerable strength and watch the wood crack and buckle whilst picturing the faces of those he only wished he had the liberty to take such a swing at.

Benito Medici (Sr. not the blue eyed cherub faced little brat who’d never grow up if he knew what was good for him as far as Sebastian was concerned) for one.

In a way it was almost a disappointment when the brunette (pretty little thing called Nathan) stood with the awkwardness of the heavily pregnant, with one hand pressed to his lower back and declared with satisfaction “that’s the last of it I think.”

“Excellent. Good job gang. This calls for lemonade don’t you think?” Mindy exclaimed, hopping to her feet with more limberness than she had a right to, being so front heavy. “With a splash of cherry liqueur. Mmm yes, that will hit the spot.”

“Isn’t that bad for the cub?” Sebastian had groused, though he had no idea why he even bothered because what did he care if the daffy omega poisoned herself or the cub.

Mindy had given him a droll look and all but sneered, “ooh look whose developed such a tender care for the children. I didn’t even have to be brutally murdered.”

Sebastian had wanted to tell her that could still be arranged. It was a near miss. He only managed to refrain by reminding himself that one day he was going to be a powerful Alpha in his own right, with a clan all his own while Blaine likely would lead these people to their ruin.

“Mindy be kind,” Nathan had scolded, flushing pink and glancing nervously at Sebastian’s no doubt dark scowl. He really was a pretty little thing, all plump and fair and sweet natured. Not to mention sweet smelling. Fertility was a good scent on him.

Sebastian normally didn’t bother with pack wolves but he could make an exception for a tasty little thing like Nathan. It was always more complicated when they were mated – because it wasn’t a thing you could easily hide once the deed was done, and if they were true mates just forget about it – but hardly anyone in the clans waited to find their true mate anymore (couldn’t afford to what with the being hunted and the dwindling numbers) so infidelities happened and Sebastian had killed more than his fair share of knot headed alphas in a rage over their mate’s indiscretions.

Call him a bastard, but the chase, and the reward of catching his prey and then coming out the victor in an alpha pissing contest, was exhilarating. It was par for the course in the clans. If an alpha wasn’t strong enough to keep his mate in line or punish the one who dared to take what was his, he could hardly call himself an alpha now could he?

It was a risky business for sure…

Sebastian let his eyes take in Nathan’s slight frame, softened and curved with cub, and caught the omegas nervous eyes. His lips curled into a slow smile and Nathan looked quickly away, but Sebastian could hear his heart pick up, smell his anxious embarrassment as it colored his cheeks.

You didn’t get anything that sweet in life without a little risk now did you?

“There’s a non-alcoholic mixture that Elise brews for the carriers.” The one they called Derrick explained. “And you should be kinder, Mindy. Mr. Smythe is one of us now.”

“I am kind.” Mindy insisted, eyes narrowing on Sebastian dangerously. “Just not a fool. I’ll be civil when he gives me a reason to be, and not just lip service. You can start by getting us our refreshments.”

This she directed at him with a pointed stare at the door, but Sebastian was in a much better mood now so he just grinned at her.

“I’m wounded that you think so poorly of me.” He responded dryly, lips tilting in a smirk as he glanced at Nathan from beneath honeyed lashes. “But I still hold out hope that in time I’ll earn a civil tongue from you. At the very least.”

Nathan didn’t look at him, but his cheeks were red as apple candy and it was so pleasant a sight that Sebastian decided to count it as a win.

He’d gone to find one of the servants (you’d think that with everyone stuck in the forest with nowhere else to go they’d be easier to track down) and when he’d finally managed to catch one of them scurrying around a corner like a frightened field mouse to order food and drinks brought to the beta suite the quivering teenager had all but peed himself.

Good god, he could not stand omegas. Sure, thinking on Nathan he could admit they had their uses when they were under you, but other than that Sebastian failed to see what their point was. Betas he understood. Betas were just the right mix of submissive and dominant to be both the perfect mates and the perfect partners but omegas? They wouldn’t survive on their own ten days without an alpha.

He was still grumbling to himself about it when he returned to the alpha wing, but he stopped before reaching the doors of the beta suite because the sight of the doors of the Alpha’s room wide open and the scent of distress coming from the room had his hair raising in alarm.

If the omega girl and the kid had managed to get themselves in some sort of trouble in the space of five minutes he’d have to kill someone. There was no way he was taking the fall for this!

Striding into the room Sebastian didn’t know what he’d find, but he wasn’t expecting to find the obstrica stood in the middle of the room, clutching her non-existent pearls as her lips curled in a snarl at the teenage omega and the cub curled on the Alpha’s bed.

“…he is sick. He will curse the cubs yet growing in their máthair’s wombs!” Sebastian walked in just in time to hear her dire prediction and frowned. The willowy ashy haired woman suddenly marched for the bed, hands waving like she was shooing flies as she barked, “Get out. Go you must go. This won’t do!”

She reached for the kid who shrank from her in the denmaids arms, the girl shifting so that he was harder to reach as she bared her teeth at the older omega descending upon them.

Sebastian grabbed the woman’s wrist before she could make contact with the kid, something about her making his nose itch and his mouth curl in distaste.

“No touching.” He warned, releasing her arm as she stared at him with wide almost panicked eyes. God omegas were weird.

“He’s _sick_.” She repeated dully. “Can’t you smell the disease growing in him? He doesn’t belong-”

But Sebastian had heard enough. He’d taken one look at Terri when she’d arrived and suspected the woman was off her rocker and he’d seen nothing yet to convince him otherwise.

“No you don’t belong in here.” he snapped grabbing the omega by her arm once more and ushering her towards the door.

“I came to supervise the renovations!” Terrie insisted indignantly, raising her pert nose haughtily in the air. “Setting up the den correctly is the only way to ensure the health of the cubs!”

“And that, Obstirca, is the kind of omega brained nonsense that I can’t be bothered with, and I’m sure you’re an expert on so I will in this one instance, bow to your expertise,” Sebastian allowed with a mocking nod. “But as the Alpha and his mate are away and you weren’t on the list of names Kurt gave me to allow entry into their den, you have no business here. Understand?”

Whether she understood or not Sebastian wasted no time hauling her out of the Alpha’s room and thrusting her back into the hall shutting the door on the sound of her offended gasp.

That dealt with Sebastian turned back to the boy and the girl on the bed, thoughts churning darkly as he strode towards them, sniffing deeply.

Terri might be crazy but she was a chosen and trained obstrica and Sebastian had too much riding on this job to let the kid catch something on his watch and not at the very least investigate it.

At first all he smelled was the fresh scent of cub and the sweet developing scent of omega coming from the girl but a step closer and a few more drags and he caught an off note that buzzed in his nose wrong.

It was the faint scent of sickness, coming from them both. An almost indescribable combination of chemical and hormonal imbalances that cumulated in the as yet barely detectable scent of the unwell.

He took in the boy’s pale face and the girls gaunt features and noted their overall skinniness – as if they’d not eaten properly in days – and scowled darkly.

“Speak up when you’re hungry.” He snapped. “They’re coming with food. Make sure the boy eats.”

Damn stupid is what it was. Going malnourished in a place as opulent as Anderson Manor. Sebastian was well aware of the current food shortage, but Christ if Blaine couldn’t keep his own den fed they might as well throw the towel in.

~*~*~*~

  
_“Where are we?”_

_Bran had taken the Valkyries hand, and the world had shuddered around him, the air pressing inward and shimmering before his eyes in brilliant prisms of color. No sooner had it started then it was gone, the pressure vanishing with it and Bran had fallen to the ground, his legs drained of all their strength and the breath squeezed from his chest._

_But even as he asked the question something about his surroundings tickled his memory, though the forest appeared as any other. He could feel it in the mist curling around his hands and knees, hear it in the gentle whisper of the wind, in the youth of the wood. The trees were young, long lived in their way, but younger than he’d ever remembered feeling in all his travels. That other world pressed close, just beyond the mist, and it recognized him as surely as he recognized it._

_“You’re at the beginning. Welcome home,” the one they called Fury murmured and Bran shuddered at the sound of her voice. Gritting his teeth, he pushed himself to standing on shaking legs and surveyed the wood around them._

_“This is not my home,” he insisted. The dark eyed Valkyrie stared at him piteously._

_“You have the blood of medbs in your veins Bran MacMurchadha. You will always belong to the Beginning.”_

_Bran was about to protest when without warning Fury sank to a knee in a deep bow, her cloak pooling around her like spilled wine, dark braids swinging in the moonlight. A chill ran down Bran’s spine as something electric brushed against his skin, sparking against his nerves. He turned slowly, knowing who he would find there before his eyes confirmed it._

_Morgana Le Fay looked much as he remembered her: painfully beautiful in a way not of this world, her eyes so deep a green they were as emeralds, with one marked difference. Her hair once dark as the wings of the ravens was now streaked with silver and white; it framed the fine wrinkles beginning to set in her face._

_As if called, the memory of their first meeting swelled up from the recesses of his mind. Bran was a boy again, barely seven summers old playing in the field near his home, turning at the warning cry of the ravens to find her standing there behind him still as a statue with potent rage burning within her gaze._

_Now, as they had then, her lips tilted into a smile parting as she murmured a quiet greeting._

_“Hello, little raven boy.”_

_He shuddered, but he did not quake before her or the strength he could feel emanating from her body in rhythmic waves. It grated still, that in magic he was no match for her. For she was a sorceress without equal, as close to a goddess as mortal men could ever understand them. Against her he had been able to do little to protect what he loved. She was the Morrigane, but he took consolation in the fact that even she was still just flesh and blood. Her time would come, just as his would. She would choose a successor and return to the dust she’d been born from just as all mortal bodies must._

_She was just as mortal as anyone, and he was a boy no longer._

_“Morgana,” he greeted her, tonelessly despite the fury he felt at the sight of her. He could not see her and not feel again the loss of so many: the kingdom he’d believed in; the parents he’d never truly known._

_“It is good to see you again Bran, though I see your anger has not eased with time.” She chuckled lowly. “Though I suppose for you it has not been so long.”_

_“How long?” he asked, eyes narrowing in scrutiny, for he did not doubt that the Morgana who stood before him was not the same one from this day and time. Her aura was stronger than he’d ever felt it before, like a wine well aged it was potent on his lips and tongue with each breath he took, the spice of it sparking in his blood with recognition._

_“Many years,” she replied with a sad secretive smile._

_“What do you want?” he asked, knowing that he would get no more from her and eager to get to the point of the whole affair. He was wary of her answer, even as some part of him anticipated the unknown. Fate, the ravens had told him. What was about to happen was fate._

_“What do I want?” she mused with a tilt to her head. “To turn back the hands of time, to know the hungers of my own heart and the consequences of my youthful ambitions… to heed the warnings that were given to me.”_

_She shrugged, laughing quietly to herself as the wind fluttered her dark robes._

_“What does anyone want? No, Bran, the better question is what am I doing.”_

_“What are you doing?” He pressed with irritation and she smiled at him once more._

_“I am shaping the future. Our past is behind us, but the future is always malleable.”_

_Bran did not know what she meant by this but he waited, anticipation tightening in his gut despite his misgivings. It had always been this way with her. Though he had every reason to fear and hate her something within him seemed tied to her, forever drawn to her side._

_“Do you still not know who you are?” Her green eyes roved over the construction of his face as if she could pull better answers from it, her mouth curling in a bitter grimace. “I forgot. How lucky you were, to stay young so long. But the time for innocence has past us. Do you not recognize where you are?”_

_Bran wanted to make her shut up, shout at her that she of all people could know nothing about who he was. He barely knew. But his tongue refused to move, stuck by the unshakable realization that he did know this place, though he had never seen or felt its like before._

_“You are in the Beginning, the first wood, the garden…” Morgana revealed, the wind picking up as if on command to sigh through the leaves. “And in the beginning there were two, before there were many: a brother and a sister. They came from another world, the world beyond this one, but they were just children and they were alone, cast out into the dark._

_The brother created light, so that his sister might not be scared, so sometimes he is called the sun god, and together they created the wood and all the lands and the seas of the world… he wanted to give her a home you see, but he was too eager in his creativity, often blinded by his love of creation and the loneliness that ate at his heart. They had been alone in that dark too long... He might never have stopped before he burst the bindings of reality if she had not asked him what would become of all these lands, these waters, with only the two of them to tend them. It was a waste for only two._

_So he, who is sometimes called the Father of the world, took the form of a winged raven and filled the earth with beings. Birds to fill the skies and fish to traverse the oceans, and eventually men to walk the earth as they walked it… and it was good, for a time._

_But it had a price Bran. He was always better at creating messes than cleaning them. He left the sister to put their creations in their place, see that they lived and grew where they would not disrupt the balance of the world. She saw that they were each of them as alone as she had been and created for them mates, so that they might make families of their own. They called her Mother, life giver, and they loved this part of her. But when she killed them they came to hate her. They do not understand what we understand. There can never be life without death.”_

_Her story ended, Morgana’s smile spread into something wicked, moonlight glistening on sharply pointed teeth. “Do you know who you are little raven boy, son of Pendragon, do you know what you have to do?”_

_He did know. But he did not want it to be true._

_“Why is every word you speak, shrouded in lies? Even now, can you not admit the truth?” he snarled. “All that death, all that misery, because he failed you! You stand there as if you know all, when you had a chance to be a part of the world, a part of a real family, my family and you threw it away, Morgana!”_

_“I know what I did,” she hissed at him with gleaming fangs, eyes flashing violently in the moonlight. “I want only to know what you would do: to save them, to reset the balance of the world. If you could have them all back Bedwyr Pendragon, would you give me your heart?”_

_“Right from my chest” he grit out through clenched teeth, desperate hope wrestling with bitter disbelief. “But the laws of magic say the dead should stay dead.” She could not bring back those he had lost and even if she could he could not trust in such dark magic. The dead should stay dead. Mordred and the rest of the Vryloka had been proof enough of that._

_“It is true… to bring a soul back through the veil is a dangerous magic, best not played with. When done incorrectly it has consequences.” She looked beyond him, the weight of sadness heavy upon them both, and Bran knew that she was thinking of the son she had lost, first in his cradle and then to greed and finally his father’s blade._

_Arthur had shared with him the story of Mordred’s making as well as the secret of his remaking before he had died, unburdening his long hidden sins so that Bran might have a chance at vanquishing him if Arthur failed. Bran trembled at the memory. He liked to think that he would have had the strength to do it, had it been necessary, but he could not help but be relieved that it had not been. Mordred had been as much a brother in blood to him as Galahad, though they were all of them raised apart._

_Bran and his brothers had been alone, left to find themselves in a dark world while the ones who should have guided them to better, pushed them instead into games of war, an endless tug of war over a crown that had already lost its true power. It’s true purpose to unite the hearts and minds of men, long forgotten._

_Sometimes, Bran understood how Galahad could hate them as deeply as he did._

_Morgana’s lips twisted into another bitter smile, as if she had read his mind._

_“There are a great many things that I regret Bran. I am not asking for your forgiveness, but for your help. We are the ones who inherited the world. We can’t abandon that duty now. There is a darkness consuming it, but we can yet save it. My Valkyrie are a testament to the strength I’ve gained. Consider dear Atai...” she nodded at Fury behind him and Bran’s eyes flicked toward the Valkyrie who had stood once more at some point without him noticing._

_Atai, Bran wondered at the name, as foreign to him as the woman’s dark features, old and ringing with meaning. It was almost too easy to look into those obsedian eyes and see the girl she had been, walking through the red dirt of home in the shadow of the great mountains…._

_He blinked the vision away. Not wanting to know that girl for fear of being deceived by her. Whoever she had been she was gone, and what had taken her place could not be trusted._

_The Valkyrie had a fearsome reputation, but unlike their male counterparts (Mordred had seen nothing of worth in human women besides pleasure and food) Bran had never heard of them collecting in hordes and wreaking havoc on the villages. They were dangerous when crossed but largely a mystery._

_Fury met his assessing stare with one of her own, as if she were trying to decide the best way to skin him._

_Morgana laughed, lowly, bringing his attention back to her._

_“How can I trust that you can do as you say? How do I know she is not insane, as Mordred was?” he asked, suspicious. He felt Atai’s dark glower on his back though she remained silent in the presence of her mistress._

_“She is Fury.” Morgana replied simply, as if that was some sort of answer. “She is tempered by the righteousness of Justice, gentled by the whims of Mercy. They will guard the world until our wakening, until we can wrest it from the hands of the dark one.”_

_“And if we can’t?” Bran asked._

_“We destroy it.” Fury promised._

_Bran was shocked to hear a laugh ring through the wood, more shocked still to discover that it had originated from deep within his own chest._

~*~*~*~

_Westerville, Ohio_

“Eat.”

Sebastian watched as the omega girl (Pacey or something of that accord) attempted once more to entice the Medici cub to eat his dinner and failed.

Kurt had chosen his denmaids well, as far as Sebastian could bring himself to be concerned. Even though over half of them were heavily pregnant themselves they sure didn’t let it slow them down any.

But Pacey...or was it Susey? Whatever.

She and the kid were a match made in miserable. Now that Sebastian was paying attention he could see that the girl was pale and dull eyed, her aura distant and chilly in an unsettling way, and every move she made had a disconcerting listlessness to it. Sebastian didn’t try to sniff her anymore, for now that he was aware of it she seemed ripe with notes of ‘sick’ and it set his wolf on edge. How had he missed it before?

He wasn’t one of those alphas who fell all over themselves to try and please a sub, felt very strongly that a subs purpose was to please rather than be pleased in fact, but there was something to be said for taking care of your things and this girl was dying.

Wasn’t Anderson going to do something about that?

For some reason, Kurt had thought this sick miserable little girl was the perfect cub sitter and it was laughable. There she was urging the child to eat, going to so far as to hold the meat to his lips, but it was the most lack luster effort that Sebastian had ever seen. He wouldn’t have bat an eyelash if she’d turned around and told him that she’d like to get up and wander to her death now, may she please be excused.

And what the hell had Hummel been thinking, going into the city alone like that? No one knew anything concrete yet but it was impossible not to know that something was off when Kurt and his party failed to return for the evening meal and Blaine and the workers returned only for the Alpha to shut himself away in his study with Crawford.

He’d announced at dinner that Kurt’s business was keeping him in Columbus overnight and proceeded to eat his dinner as if he couldn’t hear the shocked whispers rumbling through the guard; acting as if Kurt being gone longer than expected was nothing to worry about, as if alphas let their pregnant mates travel alone and spend the night in foreign territory all the damn time.

Even the kid knew not to swallow that horseshit, and with Kurt not returning on schedule he’d kicked up a tantrum until Blaine had ordered the denmaid to take him back to the den which meant Sebastian hadn’t gotten a chance at finishing his dinner either.

The alpha grit his teeth, watching as once more the omega girl pressed the chunk of meat to the boy’s lips only for the child to press his lips tightly shut and pull his head away.

“Knock it off,” he heard himself bark, and the cub and the denmaid both turned to stare at him with wide blue eyes.

Outside the door he heard a surprised inhale of breath from Nick. Truthfully, Sebastian was surprised himself to hear himself speak but since he had everyone’s attention now, and since it was clear nobody else in this mad house was equipped to deal with the situation, he supposed he was going to have to.

“You both need to eat. I’m tired of smelling you.”

He walked over to where the girl sat with the cub on the Alpha’s bed and glared down at them.

“You need to set a good example for the cub,” he berated the girl before turning on the cub glaring at him with defiant blue eyes and bared teeth. “And you Scrawny, what’s your end game? They take your mother from you and your grand revenge is to get sick and die? Because that’s what’s gonna happen, promise, if you pull shit like this every time Kurt and Blaine have to leave you alone.”

“Don’t talk about mama!” Benito shouted at him, echoing what was becoming a familiar demand and Sebastian rolled his eyes.

“I think I will. I think I’ll talk about her whenever I damn well want; because if you don’t care that your uncle Blaine and Kurt would miss your ungrateful, miserable, little presence, at least understand that the only way you get to tell me what to do is when you make me, and you’re gonna have to get a whole lot bigger to even have a shot, so eat your damn food, alright!”

As far as motivational speeches went Sebastian thought it was pretty good even though the omega girl might not have been able to look at him and might also have been trembling like a leaf, one of those trembling hands popped a slice of the meat into her mouth.

Benito grabbed a fistful from the plate on the girl’s lap and shoved it into his mouth with an admirably mutinous glare and Sebastian grinned smugly. That was how you handled a bratty cub who wouldn’t eat.

He didn’t even mind when the cub grabbed another fistful and threw it at him, just so long as the brat continued to chew. He’d leave teaching the kid manners to his guardians.  
  
And yeah, maybe he owed the kid a bit of graciousness… all things considered. Because while he wouldn’t take back anything that he’d said, there was a small (annoyingly Nick sounding) little voice in the back of his head that reminded him it would sort of be his fault if the kid did starve himself to death. He was damaged as fuck in the head, but what kid wouldn’t be after what he’d been through.

Sebastian should know.

 _“Nick, night shift officially starts now. Hopefully I’ll wake up in the morning and this will all have been a terrible dream.”_ He grumbled over their bond as he marched for the door. He needed a breather.

All he got back from Nick was a laugh and a nod.

_“You’re all heart Bash, anyone ever tell you that?”_

  
~*~*~*~

_Columbus, Ohio_

Though it had only been three months and some change since Kurt had stepped foot in his house in Columbus it felt as though a lifetime had passed. Someone had been by to clean since the place had been ransacked. His father had told him about finding the place in ruins when he’d gone looking for Kurt. They couldn’t know for sure who the intruder had been but all signs had pointed to Cooper so it wasn’t a mystery that Kurt had dwelled on much.

It was strange to find the place almost exactly the same as when he’d left it. The odd object was out of place here or there, a table placed not at the angle he would have placed it, but it was almost right and that more than anything made something longing surge in his chest. His dad must have been the one to clean. He’d always known Kurt’s preferences the best.

Kurt slipped the spare set of house keys into his pocket and stepped into the bedroom flicking on the light as he went. His bed was made, the windows were shut, the closet door was open as if waiting for him to come in from a long day at the theater and hang up his coat. Of all things, it was the damn dog bed at the foot of his that brought tears to his eyes.

Not that Blaine had ever used the damn thing, the prideful idiot. He’d preferred to sleep on the rug in the living room at first and then, later when they’d warmed to each other he’d climbed into bed with Kurt without so much as a by your leave.

Kurt sniffled, giggling to himself at the memory. He should have known something wasn’t right about that dog. Kurt had not been one to suffer dog hair on his silk sheets but one glance from those puppy dog eyes and apparently he was a marshmallow.

Picking up the phone on the bedside table Kurt dialed the number he’d only dialed physically a few times before, but Blaine had made sure was burned into his memory before he’d left the pack that day.

It picked up on the first ring.

“Kurt.” Blaine’s voice filled his ear and Kurt clutched the phone, knees suddenly feeling weak as the tears welled in his eyes. He blinked them away. He could cry and sink into Blaine’s comforting presence later. He could see Blaine later. He had to stay strong until they finished this.

“Hey, you.” He breathed softly into the phone, closing his eyes as the sound of Blaine’s breaths synced with the steady pulling he felt in his chest. Evidence of Blaine’s searching, their mutual longing. “We made it to the house okay. My dad brought the keys.”

They’d gone to a local coffee shop to wait out the rest the afternoon. Brightly lit. Tons of witnesses. Kurt had called Blaine from his new cellphone to break the news that they were being hunted and that rather than fight their way home, he had a plan for dealing with them and sending a message to the Hunter Order that would likely make them think twice before sending anyone after him again.

“I should be with you.” Blaine immediately launched in, and though it was a sentiment that every nerve in Kurt’s body echoed he shook his head, though Blaine of course couldn’t see it.

“You are. It’s two Hunters. There are three of us, four counting my dad…though I’m trying to get him to leave. He brought a gun.”

To say that Burt had been surprised to hear from him considering how they’d left things was an understatement. Kurt’s heart had been twisting when he made the call, but he should have known that when Burt Hummel said something like ‘if you ever need me just call’ he’d be there, come hell or high water.

It burned, the sight of that old pistol gleaming at his father’s belt. It had obviously been cleaned up, freshly loaded at some point and made ready for use. It made Kurt sick to think about. His dad wasn’t a violent man by nature.

It was incredibly selfish to call his dad for this, back into a dangerous situation because Kurt had chosen a dangerous life and a dangerous man to love, but Burt had refused to just bring the keys and head back to safety. Kurt had already known he wouldn’t before he dialed.

“I’m glad he’s there. Promise me you’ll stay back and let Wes and Noelle handle it.” Blaine pleaded and Kurt’s mouth twitched in a sad smile.

“I thought we weren’t going to make promises to each other we couldn’t keep?”

Blaine growled and Kurt huffed softly, though he still took pleasure at just the sound of Blaine's voice curling through his chest. He'd told Blaine what the plan was, but they both knew the likelihood of Kurt waiting in the wings was small. Blaine technically could have made it an order, could have countered Kurt's orders and had Wes bundle him up and drag him home like an errant child... Kurt could feel how much he wanted to, even at this distance, because there was a not inconsiderable part of Kurt that wanted to be bundled up and carried away, that was small and fearful and consumed with want for its mate and worry for its cub.

And it was because that need was there deep inside him that he understood what it cost Blaine not to give that order. Kurt was leading this mission and whatever came of it, Blaine stood by him. It was a level of trust Kurt wasn't sure he'd earned, but he was determined to do so before the night was through.

“I’m coming back Blaine, mission and person intact.”

It was a promise. One that sang between them with truth and that the held tightly to themselves.

Blaine told Kurt he loved him, and Kurt told him the same. When he’d hit the button to end the call he just stood there for a moment, holding it within his palm, savoring the memory of each breath Blaine had taken, every sound.

“Kurt?”

He jumped at the sound of Noelle’s soft voice at his back. He turned to find her paused in the doorway behind him, considering him with concern. Her eyes swept over the room, pausing for a long moment on the dog bed and then continuing on to stop once more at the pictures in their frames on his bedside table. The cold look that had entered her eyes melted into something warmer as she considered them.

Kurt blushed. He didn’t know why he hadn’t wondered more about Rex’s peculiarities and the peculiar strength of their bond. Evidence of it was all over the room. Those pictures of them in the park with Tina and Ringo were only the half of it. The window curtain was still pinned to one side, because Rex had liked to look out it to watch people come up the street, always the perfect guard dog when Kurt was asleep or reading before bed. In the nightstand drawer he knew there’d be a lint brush to go over his sheets in the morning, even though he’d grumble the entire time about how the night before was the last night he’d ever allow the dog in the bed again.

It never was.

“I don’t think any of us ever thanked you.”

Noelle’s words took him so aback at first Kurt didn’t think he’d heard her right.

“Excuse me?”

“Blaine. Guild law says he should have been put to death for what he did but Ian got them to lighten his sentence to a year of exile.” She explained eyes going once more to the photos of them on the bedside table. “They kept it secret, to give him a better chance but he was alone and cut off from all of us out here. You kept him safe, made him happy and strong again so that he could come back to us and you lost everything in return. We never thanked you.”

She said it so simply that you almost wouldn’t know what it cost her to admit, but Kurt could feel how uncomfortable she was standing in the midst of the life he and Blaine had shared during his captivity. To her Blaine’s sentence had been monstrous, all but a death sentence, and there was no comfort in the sight of the bed on the floor or the spare leash hanging on the door. They were symbols of isolation and bondage… and yet, there was no denying the love that had been planted here and he was thankful that she at least had looked past her own feelings enough to see it.

“He was worth it.” Kurt could only think to answer. Blaine was worth the heartache of losing Rex, for the being that he’d been and the place he’d held in Kurt’s life. Blaine was worth every bit of loss and pain he’d suffered since because the kind of joy they could give one another in spite of it all, that was what life was about. There wasn’t anything greater.

Noelle smiled at him.

“Your dad and Wes are waiting to start dinner, Matcă.”

Normally Kurt might have wrinkled his nose at the title and asked her to keep calling him Kurt, as if nothing had changed.

But this time he just nodded, straightening his back and stepping from the room with purpose; because everything had changed for him and tonight he was going to give the Hunter Order its first taste of just how much.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next up: Kurt sends a message to the Order and they're not too happy about it. Burt makes some important decisions about their family's future. Puck and Rachel return to Westerville with a shipment of goodies and have to make some decisions of their own. Blaine finally gets Kurt to agree to cool it for awhile and things settle down... and then he gets a call from the Mayor.


	10. A warning to the people.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I decided to split this chapter in two parts because the action demanded it and also because I didn't want it to be another 130 years before an update. 
> 
> In which Kurt outwits the Hunters makes a public statement, begins to deal with things with his father and realizes there really is no place like home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  _A warning to the people,_  
>  The good and the evil,  
> This is war.
> 
>  
> 
> -This is war 30 seconds to Mars.

_They might already be too late to stop the burning. It had taken too long to clear the room after the servant girl had barged into the throne room – first to calm the guard’s enough to hear the child out after the ruckus she’d caused, and then to appease the nobles who were upset to have their meetings delayed._

_The entire court had watched as a mere servant had wrestled for the ear of the king on Lady Morgana’s behalf, demanding his presence in the square to save the life of a peasant wench. The shocked murmurs of the court had turned to cries of outrage the longer the girl was allowed to speak and not dragged away for her effrontery._

_Arthur did not care so much that Myla had allowed her distress to make her forget convention. In all honest her bravery had impressed him for normally Morgana’s little friend was so shy she refused to so much as meet his eye and always found some reason or another to dart away when Arthur chanced upon them together._

_But the rules and pageantry of court had their place, and in their own way they kept the peace. Unhappy nobles made for trouble, a fact that Kay and Lancelot had not let him forget after Arthur had pulled them aside for private council._

_“Arthur you’re the king. Do you know what it looks like, for the king to run to the beck and call of a witch?” Kay demanded and he only scoffed when Lancelot insisted that the Lady Morgana was not a witch._

_“She’s no more a witch than the Merlin is – ”_

_“Bullocks, Lancelot she’s twice the witch that Ian is! Just because everyone wants to fuck her – ”_

_“Cease!” Arthur pleaded with an exasperated sigh. “While the both of you bicker like dogs over a bone a child’s life hangs in the balance! And for the record, Morgana is like a sister to him.”_

_“Aye,” Lancelot nodded fiercely in agreement all the while glaring at Kay. “Every time a man is close to a woman it doesn’t mean he wants to fuck her.”_

_Kay sniffed with an air of disbelief and waved the point away with an irritated flick of his hand._

_“Nevermind it, but Arthur I pray you, listen to me if you’ve ever listened to me before.” His foster brother leaned close to say on hushed breath, fearful of whatever ears might even now be straining to hear them. “You cannot interfere with the will of the church. Especially now that the entire court has seen that these demands come from an unrepentant pagan. They will pluck that pretty crown right off your head even if they have to cut it from your shoulders to do it.”_

_Arthur was torn. The order that had come from his Holiness sickened him – the thought of burning an innocent child to death for the crime of getting well, by supposed unholy means, abhorrent to every last piece of him. He was afraid they might already be too late… Had he deliberated too long?_

_He blinked away the threat of a headache gritting his teeth. The crown felt suddenly twice as heavy as it normally did upon his brow, the strip of skin that it rested against beginning to bead sweat. Ian had told him that he only imagined it the few times he’d grumbled about it and then lectured him about the weight of responsibility on a king._

_He had far more to protect than just his sense of honor. Crown or no crown he was king by the will of the people and the church spoke for the souls of mankind and only a fool would underestimate the power they held._

_“And what do you think Lancelot?” Arthur asked with a betraying thread of anxiousness. He hated this feeling of unsureness (the weakness of it) because so many people depended upon him and he couldn’t let them down. He was supposed to always know what to do and to make the right calls. He wanted so badly to do good for them…. He’d asked Ian once if there was something wrong with him, why he couldn’t he be stronger or braver and why the thought of failure was so crippling to him, and Ian had told him it was because he was omega._

_Arthur had not learned what that truly meant, or fully understand why he must hide it, until they’d journeyed to Northumbria, home of the Pendragon clan, to receive the acknowledgment of his right to rule from his kin. The Pendragon Alphas were some of the mightiest warriors Arthur had ever beheld and all of the stories told that Arthur’s father Uther had been the mightiest of the lot… and the cruelest._

_His mouth setting in a grim line Arthur waited to hear what Lancelot would say, but already his mind was beginning to set._

_He was not Uther Pendragon, the mad dog of Rome._

_“Kay is right…” Lancelot sighed. “It’s hateful but he’s right.”_

_They were both right, Arthur acknowledged with a sinking heart. One child for the continued prosperity of many… the choice was obvious, no matter how hateful._

_A wise king would listen to wise council… but Arthur could not ignore the painful pounding of his heart and the memory of Morgana confronting him all those moons ago in this very room when it had been madness to think of overthrowing the yoke of the roman emperor._

_“You are not the kind of man who sees suffering and closes his eyes. I know you aren’t. Though others would council you to think only of the good of your own house, Arthur I pray you to think of all that you have done and the happiness you have brought to a people so weary, so afraid to trust…” And she’d looked at him with all the hope in the world. The reality of her trust had glittered before him like diamonds – the kind of gift only a person four and five times betrayed could bestow on another – and she’d beseeched, “Do not betray their hope.”_

_Arthur Pendragon would never be a mighty alpha like his clansmen or as his sire had been. He was omega which to many (including himself) meant weakness, but for Camelot he would always find courage. He was thankful for the circle of family he’d created, the loyalty of his little pack, and for the strength they daily lended him when he was not the sort of leader they deserved. But most of all he was thankful for the addition of lady Morgana._

_The trust she’d laid in his hands made him brave. More than anything ever had before._

_“Ready my horse and send word ahead. The girl is not to be harmed.”_

 ~*~*~

 

The house across the street went dark at fifteen minutes to eleven. Monica Ceja settled back into the seat of her chair and settled herself in for a wait.

The father and the two unidentified strangers with the mark had left around ten. Her partner Joe had radioed in that he was on his way back from tailing their vehicles. Both vehicles had hit the highway headed north.

Someone foolhardier might have rushed into the house across the street as soon as the mark was left alone, but she knew Joe would skin her if she didn’t wait for him to get back in order to provide backup.

Instruction had taught her patience where nature lacked.

Monica had spent the last five years of her life within the Hunter Order. She’d been aware of it long before she’d ever decided to join it. Her parents (then living in a small town in Mexico) fearful of the wolves who, when not praying on their cattle, preyed upon their flesh, had paid tithes to the local sect so that the knights of heaven would stay diligent in their god given task to fight the monsters.

Her padre had raised her on stories of the Order. The men and women filling its ranks had been her idols and heroes for longer than she could remember. They were what allowed her to walk safely to school and sleep undisturbed at night. Other families were not so lucky. Stories crossed the desert of houses found raided by the _demonio_ , nothing left but corpses. So every Sunday at mass she had happily placed a portion of her allowance into the bucket set aside for the efforts of the heavenly armies and she had thanked god for her protection.

But she could not say that her faith hadn’t wavered over the years. She was no Joan of arc. The family had moved to America where everything was supposed to be better, where it was believed by so many that the _demonio_ were some form of human. In most of the country it was illegal to hunt them outside of self-defense. Some areas were even designated sanctuaries: reservations for their use and habitation solely, where humans were not supposed to go and the laws of God and man meant nothing.

She’d been tempted to believe, because in America the stories of families eaten alive by the _hombre-lobo_ were just stories. They didn’t see it so they thought they were safe and in time that illusion of safety had numbed her senses.

Monica’s revelation had come to her in the form of an announcement. Not from God, though her Chaplin would disagree with that assessment, but from her high school principle in spring of her senior year. One of her classmates had been killed over the weekend. A vampire attack.

No one knew who or why, only that it had happened and that the authorities had little hope of finding the one responsible; and Monica had thought it such a crime, that creatures like that were allowed to call themselves human and to hide amongst them, feeding off the innocent. She’d barely known her classmate, could not even recall his face now… but she remembered his father’s face as they’d lowered him into the ground. She’d felt his absence like a stab wound.

She’d walked from the funeral resolved to never be blind again. She’d walked up to the priest and asked him where the nearest training camp was and had taken a bus there the very next day.

She’d spent the last four years learning as a novice, _In Waiting_ as they called it within the Order, learning from her Knight Master and her brother and sister Hunters. She had eaten with them, slept with them, and fought with them until she was woven into the fabric of her Sect as tightly as any thread, their souls guided by their Chaplin, their company led by the Marshal. Only in the last year had she been declared seasoned enough to start completing solo missions, and though she completed every mission with efficiency and pride she wouldn’t be a real Hunter until she’d earned her teeth.

Monica Ceja had helped trap, ensare, and execute many a monster but she’d yet to make her first solo kill. When she did, she’d take the teeth and claws of the creature and string them to wear around her neck. Then her partner Joe could no longer yank her ponytail and call her a ‘little sister’. She would be a fully-fledged Hunter (and she would never be prey).

Things weren’t going well. They’d lost their first chance at their mark already and she was still on edge. What should have been an easy snatch and grab job had somehow turned into a midnight extraction. She and her partner, Joseph Stone, had been sent to watch the building where a meeting was to be held between the CEO of the leading institution for lycan aide and a previously uninteresting human male. Halfway through their watch orders had come from their Marshal to bring the mark in for questioning, by force if necessary.

Monica glanced down at her phone, scrolling through the files Kevin had put together on the mark. Kurt Elizabeth Hummel: twenty-seven, born and raised in Lima, an actor, previously working at a local theater company until it was shut down suddenly due to the tragic death of its head. Now speaking out for Blaine Anderson, a powerful leader in the demon community.

She could understand why the Marshal would want the man questioned, but she personally thought this mission was a waste of their time. Kurt Hummel was nobody. Likely just a lonely, desperate, actor grasping for his fifteen minutes of fame; but she supposed they had to cover their bases. Hummel was a known homosexual, and they were known for sympathizing with other abominations. It was possible he really did have some connection to Anderson. Molly Fields had come all the way to Columbus to meet with him after all and that said something. The woman might be a traitorous harlot, but she wasn’t a fool.

Monica would wait for Joe and then they’d go in and take Hummel. He’d likely not put up much of a fight.

 

~*~*~

_Two hours earlier_

“These Hunters after you?” Kurt’s father asked, tension creeping into his incredulous tone. “Are you sure?”

Kurt didn’t blame him for being shocked. Despite everything that Burt and the rest of Kurt’s family had been put through in the last few months this was all still very knew to his father. Despite being virtually surrounded by the supernatural they had lived in a bubble, ignorant of everything but the humdrum of daily life and human struggles unless they wanted to be informed. A while ago Kurt had sincerely thought he’d never even met anyone subhuman. From this side of the glass cage he could only wince at how painfully naive he’d been about the world he walked in every day.

“Yes. I left the pack today to meet with the head of Al-lys and a reporter from the New York Times, they got wind of it and they want to have the kind of talk that isn’t all that fun.” Kurt responded drolly.

He saw how his father’s eyes widened in shock, and how that shock quickly turned to anger and felt a flash of guilt, only realizing belatedly that he’d been so caught up in thinking about what was best for the Pack that he’d not even considered about how his going public on Blaine’s behalf would affect the rest of his family. It didn’t change anything (couldn’t) but still, he could have at least forewarned them.

“I wouldn’t, only the police are looking for someone to arrest, the public is pushing for government intervention, and we’re shut in the forest unable to safely go in or out while we wait for the axe to fall. Given how volatile the situation could become, Blaine and I thought it was best for someone to speak up and tell the truth about what happened last month.” Kurt tried his best to explain but Burt looked deeply unimpressed.

“So let me get this straight… you thought it was a good idea to go to the press and tell them that you’ve shacked up with a criminal?! Christ, kid are you nuts?!” Burt demanded to know. The insult to Blaine made Kurt grit his teeth but when his father’s eyes flicked to Kurt’s stomach below the table Kurt went stiff with barely suppressed anger.

“Do they know you’re...” Burt waved his hand with a grimace, unable to get the word out. Finally, he settled with griping through gritted teeth, “Is _that_ why the Hunters want you, you’re having this guy’s kid?”

At least the baby had graduated from being a thing. Still, Kurt felt his lip curling in a snarl and had to repress a growl.

The question brought with it an uncomfortable layer of silence as Kurt looked at his father, who stared back at Kurt, saying nothing. Wes and Noelle ignored their untouched plates (neither seeming to have much of an appetite for the spaghetti Wes had thrown together for their meal) watching the interaction between father and son with reserved expressions.

“I’m not stupid, Dad. Just the fact that I’m some guy he’s sleeping with was enough to put a mark on me. If they knew the truth they’d have thrown everything they had into getting their hands one me.” It was petty perhaps but Kurt felt a sense of satisfaction watching the blood drain from his father’s face.

“Why?” He rasped. “What has Blaine done-”

“Blaine hasn’t _done_ anything!” Kurt snapped and Burt snapped right back.

“Look at the facts Kurt. Hunters don’t go after people just to go after them. You’re telling me he’s on their hit list and that doesn’t mean anything to you?” Burt seethed. “This is exactly what I was afraid of! This guy is gonna get you killed!”

Kurt opened his mouth to retort, rage stirring so hotly within his chest that he was sure he probably looked ferocious in that moment but he couldn’t help it – couldn’t help but feel anything less than incensed that anyone, his own father most of all, could think that Blaine and the Pack had done something to deserve being hunted.

He was saved from whatever ugly thing might have exploded out of him by Wes’ timely intervention, the beta placing his fingers to Kurt’s wrist in the barest of touches – nothing to overly upset his sensitive nerves, but just enough to have his senses honing in on the touch (its softness, its gentleness, the sweet beguiling scent of submissive and pack tickling his nose as the soft fingers gently stroked his skin).

Kurt was so baffled by it that he almost gaped at the other beta and asked him what the hell was going on. In all the time he’d known Wes he’d never smelled like that before or given off such an air of… sweetness. It didn’t take Kurt all that much brain power to figure out why he’d done it, the aggression he’d felt just seconds before had all but melted out of him, the wolf settling inside now that it was comforted by the presence of its packmate so close, so warm and sweet, and clearly unbothered by the proceedings.

It was just… strange, to lose his head like that and be gentled by Wes of all people, who’d never shown him anything but dominance. Some part of Kurt’s wolfy hindbrain was of the definite opinion that submissive was a good look on him and he felt his cheeks flush pink with embarrassment.

“Do you watch the news Mr. Hummel?” the beta asked and everyone at the table blinked, taken aback by the quiet question. When Burt grunted in affirmation Wes nodded slowly. “Then you might have heard about the recent events in Cincinnati?”

Kurt frowned. He had no idea what Wes was talking about but his father’s quiet hum told Kurt that he must have had some idea. When Wes saw the expectant expressions on Kurt and Noelle’s faces he quietly filled them in.

“Jeremiah Zuckerman was dragged out of a bar over the weekend and beaten to death when he made a pass at somebody’s date. It’s not murder because before his parents claimed the body the coroner confirmed he was non-human and the man who beat his skull in is a licensed and ordained Hunter. He claims it was a self-defense kill. Zuckerman’s not the only recent murder but his has been the most public. Being an honors student at Yale will do that.”

Turning now to Burt with a serious expression Wes continued, and though his tone remained soft there was the unmistakable ring of finality to it, that core of dominance that Kurt was so familiar with and was honestly relieved to see return.

“It is the law here in America that Hunters can’t kill in neutral areas simply for the sake of killing, but that is their purpose nevertheless: to kill and subdue a dangerous threat to human kind. And it is the sovereign belief of the Hunter Order that _everyone_ non-human is a threat to humanity. They kill whenever and however they can get away with it, laws be damned.”

For a moment nobody spoke. Burt sat there, digesting the words that Wes had said with an unreadable expression and not for the first time Kurt felt a pang of loss over the distance between them.

“People are scared.” Burt admitted gruffly. He swallowed thickly after a moments pause. “But I saw the pictures of what they did to that poor kid. I know hate when I see it.”

And although Kurt was glad to hear him say so, there was a tiny uncharitable part of him that thought:

_‘You know it, when you see it in others.’_

But when his father looked to him and asked him what the plan was he pushed the thought aside. He wanted his father’s acceptance as much as he ever had, but now wasn’t the time.

“The plan is for us to deal with the Hunters and for you to ho home. This isn’t your fight.”

“You’re my son. What do I fight for if not for you?” Burt crumpled his napkin and threw it toward the bin in the corner and Kurt narrowed his eyes at him.

“Dad these people are dangerous. I don’t want you getting hurt. I want you to go back home to Carol and Finn.”

His father’s mouth thinned into a familiar stubborn line (Kurt could feel his lips pressing into the same shape) and Burt stared back at him, unmoved.

“I understand, but not to put too fine a point on it: who was it who said they were an adult who could make their own stupid choices?”

Burt arched a brow at him with a hint of a smile, quirking his lips and Kurt was so not amused. He had just opened his mouth to go into a lecture about how not funny that was, and how serious his father should be taking the situation when the phone rang. Noelle who was closest to it got up to answer and they all waited tensely as she held a short one-way conversation with whoever was on the end of the line. When she’d hung up she turned to meet Kurt’s questioning stare with a grave nod off affirmation.

“Puck and Rachel are ready. They’re waiting for your signal.”

They were out of time Kurt realized sadly. There was no convincing Burt to go home to safety and Kurt did not feel right compelling him with the memory of his own demand to have his choices respected ringing in his ears (and judging but that damned smug look on his father’s face Burt knew it too).

It couldn’t matter. It was time to set the night in motion and that meant Kurt had to lead. No more room for petty arguments or unchecked fears. As he breathed, from deep within him he could feel his senses narrowing on a tiny yet incessant thought:

_Sacred_

Unconsciously he rubbed a hand over his belly as he took a final inhale of breath letting it fill his lungs to full capacity before slowly dispelling it.

 _‘Be brave.’_ He thought, and the fear quieted.

 

~*~*~*~

 

Blaine sat across from Chandler and Adam, motionless on the floor of the study. His unseeing eyes were an incandescent silver, bright as moonshine.

This was only Adam’s third time observing Blaine as he used the sword but he knew better than most that Excalibur was no toy. The day his sister had disappeared he’d been called into the Alpha’s study. He remembered being very frightened of the raw power that had emanated from Julian but more so by the startling coldness of his eyes: they’d been silvery ponds devoid of all feeling, like moonlight reflected on the lake.

Despite how draining wielding Excalibur could be in those days hardly a day would go by when Julian’s eyes had not betrayed his addiction to its power. Adam had watched with the rest of the Pack as it had seemed to consume his mind like rot.

Blaine had the herculean task that night of harnessing that power so that it would be ready for use by his inexperienced mate and also holding it back so that it wouldn’t harm him or the cub he carried. Adam was against it. Excalibur made him uneasy and the last time Blaine had used it he’d not been able to completely control it. He’d roped Kurt into that storm and afterward the beta had gone into subshock. Excalibur was dangerous.

Standing this near, Adam could feel the energy emitting from Blaine like the low grade hum of a machine. The Alpha’s breathing was steady and slow though his eyes remained sightless, staring straight into an unfathomable distance, ignoring both Adam and Chandler in favor of the gleaming silver blade resting in his lap.

It helped some, not to completely merge with the sword but with Kurt carrying Blaine was worried that it would not be enough. He’d called Adam and Chandler to him for that very reason, Adam because he was needed to play guard and more so because he was Chandler’s alpha-master and the Protégé was undoubtedly the closest bond Kurt had besides Blaine.

Chandler was sitting across from Blaine, spine curled as if a great weight lay across his back, his hands resting over Blaine’s where they gripped the blade, careful not to touch the sword itself. Adam could see the way his fine blond hair stood on end and how unusually pale he’d gone. He was perfectly still though even as the lines around his mouth etched a pain filled grimace.

Adam itched to touch him but he resisted. He couldn’t touch the beta whilst Blaine was using him as a buffer anyway, but Adam wanted to believe it wasn’t cowardice that was making it suddenly so difficult to so much as look at his protégé; because he’d like to think that he was better than his biology and whatever alpha possessiveness he felt.

The minutes that Adam had lived when he’d thought Chandler to be dead had been some of the most wretched minutes he’d spent since the death of his sister; but they had been oh so clarifying. Of course there was a part of him that had mourned Chandler simply as a person, mourned the loss of his smiles, his unfailing courage and all his untapped potential; but undeniably in that dark sea of loss and endless ‘could have been’ there had been a vision of Chandler safe in his arms: beautiful, unbroken and round with cub.

He’d realized too late that he’d have done anything in the world, face any sort of censure, if only he could have that life. The life where Chandler was alive and as happy as it was possible for Adam to make him… So he couldn’t let it matter now that Chandler had changed his mind about what made him happy (no matter what it felt like). Chandler was seventeen. He should be allowed to change his mind about something as big as the rest of his life. Adam was determined not to punish him for it either and he couldn’t kid himself by pretending that shutting him out wasn’t a form of punishment, no matter how much it hurt to open their bond.

When Blaine had explained to them Kurt’s plan and what he needed Chandler to do, Chandler had barely hesitated, even when Blaine had warned him about the pain.

_‘If it will help Kurt, Alpha, then just show me what to do.’_

When Adam had picked Chandler out of that line of hopeful students eager to train for the guard he’d done so not because the boy was the strongest, smartest, or even the most talented in the bunch. He’d seen even then how Chandler had thrown himself at each challenge as if he were all three of those things and more, never letting something like a setback slow him down for longer than it took to get back up. It really shouldn’t surprise him then, that his protégé had grown into a man so much braver than he was.

Adam took a deep breath and let the bond open. Not so much that Chandler’s pain would overwhelm him, because he still had to keep a watch, but enough to cool a bit of the fire currently burning in the beta’s brain by taking a portion for himself. He traded him in memories: vivid pictures of happier times to play in his head and offer the comfort of distraction.

_“Do you remember your first two-leg hunt? Rory cut himself and wanted to shift, he was panicking because it was against the rules but he didn’t want to bleed to death. You told him you’d seen exactly six episodes of ER so you were practically as good as Quinn…”_

 

~*~*~

 

It was just after midnight when Monica entered the home of the mark. Getting through Kurt Hummel’s front door had been simple. Joe had parked their car across the street and given her the signal to go and Monica had checked her appearance in the mirror (ordinary, unassuming, pretty in a small town girl kind of way) and made sure her weapons were carefully tucked away and not visible through her light jacket and headed across the street.

She’d walked right up the front step and rang the doorbell, glancing nervously back at Joe who was leaning against the car, the glow from the end of his cigarette bright in the darkness. She’d watched as the light in Hummel’s bedroom had turned on and then as a light downstairs cast a dim glow against the fogged glass in the front door and stepped back as the door opened just enough for Hummel to appear in a pair of silk pajamas looking some cross between irritated and concerned at the sight of her.

“Can I help you?”

“Hi. Uhm… my name’s Monica,” she launched in immediately, glancing back once more at Joe before stepping in close to Hummel. She whispered rapidly under her breath. “I’m really sorry to bother you, but I was jogging and that guy has been following me for two blocks. I just need to come inside and use your phone, call for a ride. It won’t take long.”

As expected Hummel cast an alarmed glance in Joe’s direction. He looked uncertain, wary even, but as it so often did with people empathy won out and he slowly opened the door for her.

“Thank you.” she let her shoulders sag with relief and Hummel nodded, stepping back to let her inside.

Monica didn’t wait. As soon as her feet crossed the threshold she had one arm shoved against Hummel’s chest, pushing him back (inside, away from the view of neighbors) and the other reaching for the needle with the sedative that was going to make his extraction laughably easy.

Except the grunt Kurt released when she shoved him wasn’t exactly the one of surprise she’d expected. Kurt moved into the blow like he’d expected it, twisting just slightly enough to get a hold on her arm and pull with a terrifying amount of strength, sending her slamming into the floor.

Adrenaline rushed through Monica, helping to drown out the jarring pain and she rolled instinctively, getting onto her feet with grace even the Marshall would have been proud of, her pistol drawn a second later. It was a hair too slow. The sound of a gun cocking had become as familiar to her as breathing and it was loud as a crack of thunder behind her head. She froze like a deer as a gruff voice sounding strained (and all the more dangerous for it) barked at her to drop her gun.

Monica made no move to lower the weapon she had trained on Hummel who was standing almost as still as she was, breath nowhere near as labored as hers was.

Her hands shook and she steadied them, blinking back the sweat that had dripped into her eyes. She’d trained for this. She was ready. This was her moment. Hummel wasn’t alone and clearly he’d been expecting her. She’d not given Joe the signal to let him know she’d taken the target down which meant he’d be coming to back her up if he didn’t see it soon.

“I said drop the gun!” the man behind her barked once more. “Drop it right now!”

He sounded older, afraid, untried. Not a trained bodyguard, not a professional. Just a guy with a gun. The father then. He must have circled back around instead of leaving town like Joe had thought. This had been a set up. Nevertheless, Monica could work with the situation.

Tightening her grip on the trigger she aimed right at Hummel’s heart.

“I don’t think you’ve ever shot somebody before Mr. Hummel.” She taunted. “I have. Drop your gun or I’ll shoot him.”

A chorus of growls rumbled out from the shadows in response to that and Monica went cold. The shadows in the hall were moving… and there, she thought franticly as her eyes darted about tracking the moving figures in the dimly entrance way, two werewolves lay crouched in opposite corners poised to spring, their eyes glinting as they caught the distant light from the other end of the hall trying to penetrate the shadows.

Monica thought very quickly and realized that there was only one option for her now. Capture was not on the table.

She was shaking quite terribly now but she did her level best to keep her expression neutral despite the fear soaking her body in sweat. Only one way out now. One last shot to be of service. She consoled herself with the thought that at least her death would be quick.

“Help me!” She screamed, the sound explosive in the still room at such a late hour. A dog started barking across the street and much closer one of the werewolves growled again, tensing to spring. Good. “Somebody help me please!”

And then she raised the arm that had dipped just a fraction, level with the target’s heart and prepared to die.

“STOP!”

The shot exploded in her ears even as a voice dark and foreboding ripped painfully through her skull. Her arm jerked wildly and the shot went wide. A window shattered and she heard someone let out a violent curse as every light in the house suddenly surged blindingly bright.

With ferocious snaps and snarls the two wolves leapt from the shadows and Monica found that she could not so much as flinch away, her body held tightly in place as if gripped by unseen hands, and she shuddered.

“Halt!” that deep painfully resonating voice splintered through her skull once more, but frozen as she was she couldn’t even blink away the tears that started to slide from her eyes. And then the bulb in the hanging light overhead, and every other bulb in the house, surged all the brighter just to burst, plunging the house into darkness.

It didn’t feel like a good thing when even the wolves listened to that voice. She could no longer see them but she could hear them skidding to a halt just inches from her, feel their hot breath and see their teeth glistening inches from her face in the moonlight that spilled in through the windows.

As Hummel stepped forward, his eyes a silvery glow in the darkness, Monica knew that they’d made a grave mistake. Kurt Hummel wasn’t human at all.

 

~*~*~

 

Everything was bright, blindingly bright and Kurt stood in the center of that great field of white light surrounded by a swirl of dark feathers. The light pierced through the thin gaps between the wall of feathers to stab at his eyes. He tried to shut them but found he couldn’t and pain splintered through his head like someone had shoved a needle through his brain.

 _‘Daddy? Daddy can you hear me?’_ Suddenly there was a voice, a sweet familiar sound tinged with desperation that yanked at his heartstrings and Kurt shouted back.

_‘Hello?! I can hear you!’_

_‘Daddy! Daddy you have to stop them, they’re gonna…’_

“Christ!” Kurt heard his father curse loudly in the dark and the vision of light and feathers flashed and faded as if it had never been, the pain receding along with it leaving behind nothing but darkness and he almost crumpled to the floor.

Some sense of preservation kept him standing, holding tightly to his control over the Hunter even as the power of Excalibur raced through him dizzying all his senses.

Pulling it from Chandler was strange, like trying to drink scalding water through a stirring straw. It burned no less, but it couldn’t quite flood his body like it had his one other experience with it. Without the full force of it overwhelming him he could breathe easier, maintain control. He noticed more, like how all five of his senses had sharpened to an almost painful edge, down to watching how ever quiver of the Hunter’s body squeezed sweat through her glands, the smell of it bitter with terror.

He could hear the clink and grind of Noelle and Wes’ teeth and nails, and each of their harshly panted breaths. He could hear the rapid-fire ticking of the cub’s heart within him and now clearer than it had ever been before a feeling so intense it could only be thought…

_‘Hurts’_

With a sinking heart he realized that the intense emotions that had been overwhelming him lately were the whisper thin beginnings of formed thoughts from a being not yet advanced enough to think beyond instinct and reaction to stimulus. He’d worried that the cub might be effected by tapping into Excalibur’s power and now that he had all the conformation he’d ever need he knew he had to work quickly. He couldn’t stop to wonder about what he’d just experience – if he’d imagined speaking to that little girl or not – because the cub he was carrying right in the here and now was real and with each second that dragged it was suffering.

 _‘I’m sorry baby. It’s almost over’_ he promised her (could not help but to think of it as a her) while keeping a firm grip on the Hunter’s will. Glancing toward his father he asked, “Dad are you okay?”

The shot had gone wide but there was no telling what it might have hit.

“Yeah… yeah, I’m alright. Are you alright?!” Burt demanded right back and Kurt nodded, before realizing that it was unlikely that his dad could see the motion in the dark.

 _“We’ve got the female,”_ Kurt announced openly for those in the room and Puck and Rachel outside to hear and then aloud he said, “We need to move quickly. The neighbors will have called the police.”

He smelled Puck approaching before the front door swung open and the alpha poked his head inside.

“We’ve got the male contained and ready for transport. Let’s jet before the cops arrive.”

Kurt nodded, gesturing towards Monica who followed the silent push of his will and climbed shakily to her feet, her eyes getting rounder and rounder with terror.

“Follow Puck to the car,” he ordered, unsurprised when she began staggering towards the door as if pulled there. “And don’t worry, I’m not going to kill you. Today.”

He let the warning curl darkly in her mind. He didn’t look over at his father to see his reaction but he could probably guess it. It couldn’t matter. She’d come there to hurt him. Tried to shoot him (and his cub). She was only alive because he needed her and her companion to give the world a message; but first he had to drill it into her head.

Wes followed Monica’s staggering form intently, never taking his eyes off the Hunter just in case Kurt’s control over her should slip. Kurt was glad for it because even now he could feel pinpricks of sweat beading on his brow as the constant ache in his head continued.

Noelle followed after him, pausing briefly to bump her snout into the back of Kurt’s palm and lick at his fingers something inexpressibly soothing about the gesture even as, her worry lapping at the edge of his senses.

“I really am fine” he murmured, resisting the urge to bury his fingers into her warm fur as he might have Blaine’s. She licked once more and trotted after Wes to help secure their prisoners for travel. Kurt breathed a small sigh of relief. He’d done it. Just one more step now.

 _‘Hurts’_ that small voice reminded him and he trembled. Quickly.

 

*~*~*~

 

_“Following the shocking news break that last month’s werewolf attack, what authorities have confirmed as the deadliest subhuman attack on American soil in a century, may have been a result of a rouge wolf attack, comes an even stranger story. Last night police responded to a disturbance call at the residence of Kurt Hummel, a Columbus resident, who shocked the nation in a story that broke online last night and hit newspapers this morning…Hummel, a long term resident of the neighborhood has until recently lived a quiet life. Neighbors report that Hummel came across to them as friendly, a respectful neighbor, and stated that they’d never had any problems until last night’s shooting. A shooting that appears to be a retaliation against his support of the Westerville wolf pack. Hummel was abducted from his home at gunpoint, only to escape and flag down help from an unnamed driver; the strange part: the perpetrators turned themselves in to local police early this morning confessing their crime and their affiliation to a local section of licensed Hunters. Their goal was to use Hummel for leverage against boyfriend Blaine Anderson, the chief of the Westerville collection of werewolves and according to Hummel, a hero… Hummel, rattled by the night’s events, refused to answer further questions outside the police station but had this to say…”_

_“I came forward to tell the truth about what happened last month because I knew nobody else would, because I know Blaine and his people are no different than you and I – just good people, trying to raise their families in peace. But there are people out there, people like those who broke into my home and threatened my life and the lives of those I love, because they believe that lycans are a threat to humanity. It’s sickening, and we should be asking ourselves why we allow groups like this to operate, and what is stopping them from deciding that you, me, or anyone else shouldn’t be labeled dangerous or worse, collateral damage.”_

_“A representative from the local branch of Hunters was not available for comment but Hummel’s story and the violent attack on his home has many locals doubting. A protest has formed outside town hall today with many supporters of the subhuman community demanding equal rights for subclass humans…While the charges against Anderson and the Westerville lycan reservation have not officially been dropped, the Westerville authorities have launched an investigation. They’re asking anyone who has any further information to come forward…_ ”

Kurt stumbled into the kitchen to find his father dialing the television down until the sound was a low murmur in the background with a deeply contemplative look on his face. Someone had started a pot of coffee – likely Burt as Wes was still patrolling the block and Noelle had yet to return from a run to the grocery mart. Since Kurt hadn’t lived there for months the house was devoid of anything besides canned and dried goods and despite having eaten as much of last night’s spaghetti as he could stomach, Kurt’s stomach was cramping with hunger. He needed protein, meat specifically. Any other time a few missed meals would have been no sweat but with each rumble and twist of his gut Kurt felt a stab of fear for the cub he carried.

_‘Hungry’_

_‘I’m sorry, I know this is hard. We’ll be home soon Baby’_

The thought was followed by an intense flood of longing as the other end of his mating bond opened and pulled in silent demand. Tears pricked his eyes and Kurt blinked to clear them away his hand rubbing where it rested on the place where his belly had begun to round.

Even without being able to share Kurt’s vision most of the night Blaine knew how every step of the night’s struggle had gone. Even over this distance Kurt could still feel the touch of his mate’s emotions and the whisper brush of Blaine’s mind against his own. He’d called as soon as he’d woken that morning and they’d said and done all the right things: Kurt had asked after Chandler and Benito and had felt pride that Blaine and the pack had finished the road while he’d successfully begun to turn the tide of public opinion back in their favor and expose the cruelty of the Hunter Order.

It was just a beginning but it was hope; and that was an amazing feeling, to know that together he and Blaine were giving the pack a brighter future.

But he wanted to go home now… and it was comforting knowing that he was needed. Not just as a partner in leadership but simply as he was; because Blaine would always need him to come home.

 _‘Soon’_ he promised, blinking the tears away with a smile that trembled until it broke. He really wanted to be home.

He did his best to ignore his father’s intense stare as he stumbled toward the coffee pot. He must look like shit, pale and wan, and on top of that he probably smelled like he’d just spent his morning with his head stuck in a toilet bowl puking up his guts because _surprise_ he had. His hand shook as he reached for the pot, thinking only of the tired ache in his muscles and the satisfying jolt of energy the liquid brew would bring on top of filling his aching belly.

“Hey, no, what are you doing-” As Kurt pulled a mug out of the cupboard his father reached to snatch the pot away from the warmer and a snarl of irritation ripped from Kurt’s chest. He saw the way Burt went still, body leaning away from his and heard the rapid hammer of his heart beat. And it hurt, once again seeing evidence that his father was now afraid of him.

“You can relax,” Kurt snapped. “I wouldn’t bite you.”

“I know that.” his dad grunted. “Doesn’t make it less terrifying getting snarled at by a wolf, give a guy some credit Kurt.”

Kurt grunted, annoyed by the logic and not wishing to give up his annoyance just yet, prying the pot out of his dad’s hands and pouring himself a steaming cup. Burt huffed.

“It’s been awhile since I’ve done this, but isn’t coffee off limits?”

“Cubs are hardier than human babies. Quinn said a cup a day was probably safe.”

His dad arched an eyebrow at him as Kurt took a defiant sip.

“Did she say anything about how using that sword thingy and duking it out with Hunters would affect the baby? You had a hell of a night. Maybe you should skip it this morning.”

“We care about the baby now?” Kurt growled, grip tightening on his cup even as he lowered it from his lips. He was being unnecessarily cruel perhaps, knew it even as he let his temper continue to fray, but he was too exhausted and the ugly thoughts and words that had been traded when his father had left to return to his safe human life too fresh in his mind.

“I care about _you_ Kurt and you know it. Check the attitude.”

Kurt huffed and with a roll of his eyes turned and dumped his mostly full mug into the sink with a clatter (because damn him for being right).

“I don’t think I will, actually. The thing about my being an adult now _Dad_ is you can’t just command my respect. Try earning it.”

“Oh, is that right?” Burt crossed his arms and even though it didn’t show on his face Kurt knew his tells too well not to know that he’d hurt him. And baring that there was the issue of the bond they shared. His dad couldn’t access it the same way Kurt could but it was still there, strong as anything, forged by years of love and commitment. It was real and it was aching, pulling tighter and tighter with every barbed word they traded.

_‘Hurt.’_

Kurt’s eyes widened in alarm, hand flying once more to his belly with shock. God had he really hurt her just by taking a sip? It really shouldn’t have. Coffee had been one of the first things he’d asked Quinn about, but maybe his dad had been right about it being too much on top of everything else.

Or… a thought niggled at the back of his mind as he remembered something he’d read in Quinn’s journals. It wasn’t just physical stress he was supposed to avoid. He was the cubs first bond and there was no such thing as shields or barriers at this stage. For better or for worse his child was going to feel everything he felt. Ideally he should be cloistered in his den surrounded by constant support and comfort in a stress free environment.

Kurt took a ragged breath. Burt was watching him closely, eyes pinned to the hand Kurt had resting against his belly.

“If the twenty-nine years I’ve spent loving and worrying over you and working to make things even a little bit better for you wasn’t enough for you Kurt then I’m sorry.” Burt said and Kurt swallowed back the return of tears. “I can’t give you any more. I can’t make this easier to handle or flip a switch and just be _okay_ with the fact that you’re more a stranger to me now then you’ve ever been. It ain’t happening. But now you listen.”

And his dad may not have been wolf like him or Blaine but every last bit of him (wolf included) raised to attention, hanging on every word.

“None of it matters. When you’re a parent it doesn’t matter if it hurts or if it’s not fair. You figure out how to be there, how to do what’s best for your child. And if that means learning to speak wolf or wrapping my head around you being pregnant, then you and me we’re going to figure it out, but I know for damn sure I’m not letting anybody hurt you. Especially when that person is you.”

Though Kurt had bit his lip to the point of pain he couldn’t hold back the swell of emotion within him, a sob escaping him as his father reached to pull him close. Kurt wrapped his arms around him and clung like the child he very much wasn’t but would perhaps always be where this one bond was concerned.

And as his father held him tight and wordlessly accepted Kurt’s tearful apology he decided he was alright with that.

“I’m sorry Dad, really. I’m just… worn out. Still, I shouldn’t have said that. I know you love me. And I love you. So much.” There were few people Kurt loved more in the world, if love could be so neatly tallied up (it couldn’t). “I-If I can be, half as good a father to my child as you’re to me she’ll be lucky.”

Burt pulled back, his eyes widening in some mix of surprise and alarm.

“You know the sex already?”

“Uh… not exactly.” Kurt had no idea where to begin explaining about his nightmares and didn’t want to add even more worry to his father’s plate. “It’s just a feeling I have.”

Burt nodded a small smile spreading his lips.

“Your mom was like that. The doctors swore you were a girl but she had a hunch from day one that you’d be a boy.”

“Did you want a girl?” Kurt asked, because he’d always wondered why his gruff usually conservative father had been so open with the idea of giving him one of his mother’s names.

“Yeah. I had my heart set on a little girl and naming her after Caity… your mom meant the world to me you know.” Burt sighed sadly at the memories and Kurt gave him a consoling squeeze. His dad smiled at him. “But I wouldn’t change anything even if I could. Wouldn’t trade you, wouldn’t trade Finn and Carole either even if it meant getting my heart broken all over again.”

“I know.” Kurt smiled softly back at him. “And if it is a girl… I want to name her Caitlyn.”

He bit his lip nervously, not sure how Burt would take the news or if the thought might upset him considering how not onboard he’d been with the pregnancy to begin with. He was clearly still uncomfortable, his nod stiff as he muttered some affirmation that Kurt’s mother would have been touched by that.

“I’m only sorry she’s not here…” and the thing was Burt looked it, genuine guilt flashing through his eyes. “She’d have been better at this.”

“You’re doing okay in light of everything.” Kurt rubbed his arm once more as the sound of a car pulling into the drive pulled him from the intimacy of the moment. He stepped away, offering his dad one last small smile. “Like you said, we’ll figure it out.”

“I’ve been thinking about what you said,” Burt grunted as Kurt heard the front door open and Noelle called out over the bond to reassure him it really was her returning and not some other unexpected visitor. He arched a curious brow and waited, and his father turned away to begin fishing through the rack of pots and pans, readying to cook the food that Noelle had brought.

“About the Zuckerman kid. It’s not right. There should be laws against that kind of garbage” he muttered without turning around.

“Well there isn’t.” Kurt reminded him. “That’s why I’m doing what I’m doing, because there never will be unless people decide they care.”

“Yeah well…” Burt banged a skillet on the counter. “Maybe you shouldn’t have to do that alone.”

Noelle bustled into the kitchen laden down with plastic grocery bags – Kurt’s nose twitched and his mouth watered at the smell of the meat that even the plastic wrap couldn’t hide from him, and his stomach twisted painfully once more with hunger – so he didn’t answer that; it was just as well. He knew by the contemplative frown on his father’s face that Burt had been talking more to himself than he not anyway.

 

~*~*~

**Incoming:** Star. Docked. Midnight express.

_Beep Beep_

Blaine grabbed for the tablet phone that lay on the table beside the infirmary bed, heart thundering in his chest as he devoured the message blinking up at him from the screen. Even though he knew he’d already have felt it if something bad had happened to Kurt it didn’t stop his heart from leaping into his throat at every incoming message.

Most of the pack had telephones (at least those who lived in town) but Blaine could count the number of people who had access to his private line on one hand and for the Pack it was far quicker and felt far more natural simply to communicate through their bonds.

Which meant every time that cursed device beeped it was likely Wes, chiming in with an update, or possibly Kurt texting for help from a ditch somewhere seconds from death. Or so the anxious, not to mention wildly irritated, animal pacing within him seemed to think. Blaine’s wolf was not happy. It had not allowed him to sleep all night (what kind of alpha went to sleep when their pregnant mate wasn’t by their side, wasn’t _safe_ ) so he hadn’t bothered trying, choosing to spend his night and the early part of the morning taking shifts with the night guards.

He’d picked at his breakfast (because what sort of alpha ate his fill while his mate was somewhere he couldn’t hunt and might be going hungry) and had growled at Adam’s attempts to get him to eat more until the other alpha had given up, suggesting they take some food to Chandler in the infirmary (not because food couldn’t be delivered up there, but because whether Adam wanted to admit it or not he was anxious to spend every moment that he could with the beta).

When Blaine dived for his phone, the stream of chatter Chandler had been keeping up since they’d arrived had petered off as the other three pairs of eyes in the room turned to watch him.

“Is everything alright Alpha?” asked Mindy, who was perched at the foot of Chandler’s bed with the beta’s legs draped over her lap as she kneaded the tension out of his muscles. There was barely room for them what with how her belly protruded but she’d been insistent, and Chandler had likely learned better than to cross his fretful mother during his last stay in the infirmary.

Blaine couldn’t help but wince at the memory. He hated to see the beta back on bed rest so soon, and hated even more that it was his fault. Chandler had been brave last night and was trying to put a good face on it now by trying to keep up his usual smiles and whirlwind conversation, but the haggard look of his face and the altogether too dull nature of his eyes would have given him away even if the slow drag of exhaustion over the bond hadn’t.

Not even Adam’s presence had cheered him up. In fact, Blaine narrowed his eyes with a frown, Chandler seemed to be doing everything but looking directly at the alpha. Which, given that it was Chandler and looking at Adam was one of his (much talked about) favorite things, was concerning. Blaine filed it away for later, smiling soothingly at Mindy as he stood, already punching out a reply for Wes.

“It’s good news. The shipment has arrived.” As Mindy clapped gleefully, Blaine caught Adam’s eye and gestured for him to follow. “Gilbert’s in Columbus. They’re going to make the delivery after midnight. Is the first retrieval team ready?”

Pausing to glance back at Chandler Adam nodded. “We’re short a member but –”

“Is Kurt coming back with the shipment?” Chandler interjected as they reached the door. He struggled to sit up, sweat beading on his forehead with the effort. “I can still go with you, I’m-”

“Not going anywhere tonight.” Adam interjected with a stern frown. “Quinn put you on bed rest.”

“One night!” Chandler insisted hotly and Blaine was surprised by the real bark in his tone. Chandler had finally looked at the alpha, his mouth set in stubborn determination and there was an unfamiliar hardness in his eyes. “Quinn put me on bed rest last night and said she’d check on me this morning. I’m fine. I want to go with the guard tonight.”

“It’s not about what you want Chandler.” Adam sighed and Chandler actually snarled lowly growling under his breath.

“Clearly. Nothing is.”

Blaine frowned, but before either he or Adam could open their mouths to rebuke the protégé Mindy dug the nails of her forefinger and thumb into his calf in a wicked looking pinch and he yelped, jerking his leg back with a whimper more betrayed than wounded.

“Even if your alpha has lost the sense he was born with…” She snatched the boy’s leg bag to continue her massage as if no interruption had occurred and she hadn’t just offhandedly insulted Adam. Blaine gaped. “You’ll mind your manners when the Alpha is present. I didn’t raise you in a cave.”

What the hell was going on here? Blaine wondered, even as Chandler muttered an apology pointedly for Blaine and not for the alpha-master he’d done the actual disrespecting, but he let it go. They had far more pressing things to deal with currently, but he filed it away for future thought. He had the feeling it could become a problem.

“Is everything alright?” he did ask when Adam had clicked the door shut behind them, giving the other alpha an opportunity to share if he felt so inclined. Blaine could access the truth at any time but it was an unspoken rule that the Alpha’s grant the pack some semblance of privacy as well as autonomy. It wouldn’t have been right just to pluck what he wanted from Adam. One thing his father had forgotten in the later years of his rule, was that loyalty could only be earned with trust and trust like loyalty could not simply be taken.

Adam winced, his eyes flinching away from Blaine’s for a brief moment. They walked in silence for a time before he sighed and brought them back level with Blaine’s.

“No. I suppose it isn’t. I decided to end my courtship with Chandler.”

“Why?” Blaine barely resisted the urge to let his mouth open in shock. He’d never have guessed that Adam would do something like that in a million years, and it certainly explained Mindy’s frostiness. But he knew Adam and knew the other alpha would never do such a thing without good reason.

“He’s been seeing someone else.”

This time Blaine did stop mid step, his thick eyebrows shooting up his forehead in an expression that Kurt probably would have laughed at.

“One more time?”

An irritated snarl twisted the other alpha’s lips and he didn’t repeat himself. Blaine couldn’t say he didn’t understand it. Had it been Kurt… actually. Blaine did his best to tamp down on the sudden surge of aggression, his teeth elongating in his mouth as the wolf surged forward.

Best not to think on that.

“How do you know?” He asked instead and an answering growl rumbled in Adam’s chest before he bit out a response through tightly clenched teeth.

“I’ve caught him sneaking out to meet them.”

Blaine frowned once more, puzzling over the boggling prospect.

“Have you actually seen him with this person?”

Adam’s eyes flashed murder at him.

“No. Don’t particularly care to either.” The alpha snapped. “I confronted him and he didn’t deny it.”

“That’s… damning.”

“What…is that not enough?” Adam scoffed but Blaine could see the desperate hope behind his eyes, feel the tremulous pull of yearning coming from him and he knew he couldn’t keep silent.

“Adam you _know_ Chandler, maybe even better than I do. What you’ve shared is a bond only topped by actually mating him.”

“What’s your point Blaine?”

“My point is it’s fishy.”

“ _Fishy_? How is it fishy?” Adam pressed and Blaine couldn’t help his aggravated snap.

“If Chandler Kheil really thought some fling in the dark with an alpha too cowardly to challenge you in the open was worth losing _you_ , then I’ll eat my own fur. It’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard and I think you know that.”

“Oh is that it?” Blaine knew he’d said exactly the wrong thing by how suddenly silent the room went, how cold the bond between them.

“Adam I didn’t mean it like – ”

“No. You have a point, you do, but tell me Alpha, if it were Kurt, if Kurt were the one sneaking out every night. If he didn’t even deny it when you accused him, and you felt how I felt... If you couldn’t figure out which was worse: the betrayal you’d never have believed or the lies you can’t even fathom. Would it be _stupid_ then?”

Adam had taken a step forward sharp teeth bared as he snapped each word and Blaine fought to maintain control of his tension, his body aching with the effort of holding back the wolf.

“Kurt would never do that!” He snarled. “He’s my mate!”

“And he’s the one most able to blind you! The closer the bond the more they can manipulate you, _use_ you, Blaine. You’d never even _look_ for the lie and you know it!” Adam seethed. “So _back off_!”

“Woah.” the soft exclamation came from just behind them, just in time to prevent Blaine from giving in to the nearly blinding surge of rage in him. How dare Adam talk to him like that, say the things he’d said, imply that Kurt would ever go behind his back and manipulate him, use their bond against him like that… it was enough to make any alpha see red, and it didn’t matter that they both knew it wasn’t true.

Kurt wasn’t where he should be. He was gone. Not safe and not well, because Blaine had let him go.

He turned away from the blond alpha, less concerned with identifying the wolf who had come upon them and more with collecting himself. He knew he wouldn’t be able to resist going on the attack if he kept looking at Adam.

Because he was right. For every logical and political reason for sending his mate to face the unknown there were ten saner and far more pressing reasons to prevent it: so the real reason that Kurt was out there was because he wanted to be. And Blaine had supported him because he hadn’t been able to support his wish for further combat training and he’d wanted so badly to find a compromise, and help Kurt find his way however he could…

“Is there trouble in paradise?” Sebastian smirked from where he leaned against the wall, drawing Blaine from his contemplation. Sebastian and Harvey were standing just feet behind them at a respectful (and wary) distance. The headmaster looked profoundly disapproving and it made Blaine feel like a naughty schoolboy all over again.

He snapped his teeth and squared his shoulders, their appearance enough to cool his rage and allow him to get a handle on things. He wasn’t going to parade his weaknesses in front of Sebastian Smythe of all people.

“Get the night crew down to McGregor. We’ll need to fit them for the sleds.” Blaine instructed, not looking back at Adam and not needing to see the other alpha’s nod of acknowledgment to know he’d be obeyed. Anger was one thing but Adam was a good man and a loyal guard.

“Do you let all of your men talk to you like that?” Sebastian asked as Adam’s footsteps faded down the hall.

“Just the ones I call friends.” Blaine responded, and it couldn’t have been clearer by the hard edge to his tone that he didn’t count Sebastian on that list.

“I hate to agree with the MacTere Alpha, but in this instance he’s right. Adam shouldn’t speak to you that way.” Harvey sniffed.

“Never mind, I’ll deal with Adam.” Blaine waved away his concern. “Did you need something Harvey?”

“Yes Alpha, another student has fallen ill and I think I may have narrowed down the source. If we could lift the quarantine at the school, it would help us get the children back on something of a normal schedule.”

Blaine nodded and turned to Smythe who was still leaning against the wall watching them both indolently.

“And what do you want Sebastian, aren’t you supposed to be watching my den?”

To the other alpha’s credit, he didn’t appear at all phased by Blaine’s scathing tone. He stood up straight, mouth thinning and didn’t bother mincing any words.

“Nick told me something when I reported for my shift that I thought you needed to know, Alpha.”

Blaine didn’t think he’d ever heard Sebastian use his title without a sneer behind it but it was noticeably absent now and it made Blaine all the more uneasy.

“Go on.” he prompted and Sebastian nodded.

“Last night during his shift he was pulled away by a strange noise. He didn’t find anything when he went to investigate, but when he returned he caught the Obstricia outside your rooms.”

“Terri?” Blaine could not imagine what would have brought the woman to the Alpha room in the middle of the night. But none of it was good. “Did she say what she was doing there?”

Sebastian hesitated and Blaine stared at him, itching to peel back the layers of mind and soul to peer through them for the truth as he once had when Smythe had been locked behind bars, but he knew that wasn’t an option now. Smythe had submitted to him and Blaine had accepted that submission. He was pack and was to be granted the same rights of privacy and person and any other pack member.

So help them all.

“Nick says she was out of it…” the alpha finally grunted, looking none too pleased about it. “…like she was sleep walking or having a nightmare. He said she was raving about the boy being sick. She says his sickness would get all of us unless we stop it.”

And with a sinking feeling Blaine began to understand.

“Yesterday she barged into the room while I was watching the kid and was raving about sickness then too. I thought she was just talking about the fact that the kid’s depressed as hell and starving himself to death-” Blaine winced and Sebastian narrowed his eyes at him, “but that’s not it.”

“It’s because his father was a monster.” Harvey stated mater of factually and Blaine scowled.

“M? You mean that whack job was his father?” Sebastian gaped, his head swiveling now between them and Blaine growled.

“My _brother_ Smythe was a lot of things, but he was still my brother.” He barked, bearing down on the other alpha with dominance until Sebastian lowered his head, to all appearances properly cowed. “He was turned into something monstrous but he was by nature a wolf and Benito is no different. He’s just a wolf, just like us.”

“Of course, but if you don’t mind, I met your brother Blaine. I saw what he could do and in all that time I had no idea he was one of us he hid it so well. He drank blood like a leech, smelled like a leech, even moved like them Blaine!” Sebastian insisted. “He was the farthest thing from ‘just a wolf’ I’ve ever encountered. People are going to be terrified of this kid once they know the truth!”

“They don’t know,” Blaine interrupted with another push of dominance and Sebastian fell silent. “I can’t stop them from wondering or putting the pieces together. I can’t stop them being afraid, but I won’t let them hurt him more than he’s already been hurt. I won’t hand him over to be hated and abused for shit he didn’t ask for!”

And he stared right at Harvey, impressing his will on the older alpha with a punishing grip because Blaine knew that he liked Benito’s presence least of all and his opinion mattered a great deal to the elders of the pack.

“Benito nothing like Cooper and he won’t be made to suffer for Cooper's choices. Terri’s eccentric and likely got frightened by the gossip going around about him. I’ll have a talk with her and put an end to it.”

“Actually, Alpha…” Harvey cleared his throat quietly beseeching Blaine in a surprisingly submissive tone. “If you’d allow me to?”

Blaine didn’t know what to say, but apparently Sebastian did.

“How come?” Blaine’s eyes flew to Sebastian’s with censure at the rude bark from the other alpha Smythe rolled his eyes. “It’s a fair question. You would never let me get away with acting like I forgot that I originally came here to break and bed you – ”

As Harvey sputtered indignant rage, Blaine hackles raised and his teeth went sharp in his mouth again as he snarled at Smythe, who just shrugged.

“A plan interrupted by the fact that you’d gone and gotten yourself tangled up with Hummel, alas. My point is nobody lets me forget that, so why are we forgetting that Strand can’t stand the kid and would be only too happy if that bat shit omega strangled him?”

“The MacTere, while towing a very dangerous line, speaks true” Harvey muttered. “I’d be honored Blaine, because I feel I owe you and your mate an apology. You’ve made your will known and I have been… well, discontent. I’ve not fully supported you at a time where you need it most and for that I am sorry.”

Slowly as Blaine searched Harvey’s face for sincerity and the bond opened up between them with warmth he felt himself sag with the relief of a burden lifted. He’d not wanted to do this without Harvey’s support he realized, though he’d been resolved. He knew Harvey and had expected they’d be waiting a long time before the Headmaster came around. In all honesty Blaine had expected that it would only happen when Benito was grown and no monstrous change ever overcame him, forcing Harvey to acknowledge that he’d been wrong all along. He was a great alpha Harvey, but stubborn as a goat.

Harvey smiled at him, fondness creeping into his expression and Blaine was reminded of the past, being called into the Headmaster’s office for some infraction or another: being soundly scolded and then offered one of the candies Harvey kept in a bowl in his desk (addicted to the sweet things) and allowed to sit and unburden his heart. Harvey had always known there was little escape for Blaine besides his school hours.

A return smile lightning his face Blaine slowly nodded.

 

~*~*~*~

 

_He found her in the garden that night. Morgana’s heart was heavy, so heavy with grief it was as if storm clouds had gathered there, dark and grey and fit to burst to soak her insides._

_She thought that even now upon the sweet tickle of the midnight air that she could smell the lingering echoes of smoke._

_In the tree above her Shil rustled his great black feathers and she shuddered, pausing her slow walk about the garden to stare up at an endless sea of stars, laboring for breath as the memory of Merida’s screams ghosted through her mind._

_What kind of people did such a thing? Monsters masquerading as men. But what did that make her, who had just stood there as if she was powerless, as if she couldn’t kill them all with a wave of her hands. They were as meek as flies in the wake of what terror she could bring down upon them._

_She could have ground their bones to dust but she’d waited, her hands staid by the weight of Arthur’s crown and the fervent belief that he would come to write these wrongs himself. She could not cause such a scene or betray the strength of her magic so publicly. Arthur would never forgive her harming people under his protection. So she’d stood still. And how that girl had screamed as she’d paid for the price of Myla’s slow feet, Arthur’s slower arrival and more damningly, Morgana’s fear._

_A swell of fury rose within her and the wind picked up. In the tree Mihan and Shil croaked and flapped their wings as if they would take off._

_‘Coward!’ they shrieked in fearsome accusation. ‘Coward! Coward who hides behind her love of a king.’_

_As her body trembled with rage she saw again in her mind’s eye as the priest had stared at her through the flickering flames, his eyes stark with the appetite for death. Death and more death. They would not rest until they’d consumed her and all that she dared to touch._

_With a strangled cry she swung her hand as if to grasp ahold of the branch high out of her reach and with a wrenching motion an audible crack split through the air as the wide limb came tumbling to the earth sending the ravens scattering._

_She heard his footsteps first. They were soft as he approached her, and then the wind brought the smell of him to her. There was such wildness in him. Such power. His presence always hit her system like a shock of lightning. He came and stood before her._

_There were days when Arthur stood as tall as a giant, commanding legions with a strength of will so formidable it made her heart pound within her chest and swept her away with passion not of the flesh but of the spirit: a thirst for all that could be accomplished in the company of such a noble heart (such righteousness)._

_But he stood before her now as meek as a boy, his eyes wide with the discovery of his own horrible limitations like a child, as his shoulders drooped and shook and she wanted to curse him and then to curse herself in turns._

_He dropped to his knees as if the strength had left his legs and she sucked in a harsh breath._

_“I am…sorry.” He rasped through a full bodied shudder, blue eyes beseeching hers with the swell of tears. “I didn’t come in time and I failed you. I failed that girl.”_

_Stupefied she could only stare and he cringed as if she’d slapped him. His head bowed with grief and a hot ache blossomed within her chest._

_Slowly her fingers reached for the golden crown of his head. As she buried her fingers within the soft strands of his hair the wind tickled her nose with the scent of honeysuckle – he was enamored with the taste of the sweet little flowers – and something within her shuddered and broke. Suddenly she was crying, great tears dripping down her cheeks as she shuddered and sobbed._

_She crouched so that they were once more eye to eye, for she did not want this great man (this precious boy) kneeling at her feet as if she were the god of the priests. She only wanted him to look at her and see the truth of her._

_“No, tis I who failed you.” She somehow got out through the tightness of her throat, clutching him close. He trembled against her body and she held him all the closer. “You are the bravest man I’ve ever met Arthur Pendragon and I’m only sorry I was so afraid before now.”_

_With the gentleness that one might handle the delicate bodies of doves, the lady Morgana tilted Arthur’s head until their lips met. The kiss was soft and bitter with the salt of tears, but their hearts fluttered rapidly within the dark, rushing blood into cheeks and lips with tingling sweetness._

_In his mouth was the taste of veneration and she shuddered like a craven girl, clutching his wide shoulders to balance herself as she gave to the pleading of his mouth. In his arms she’d found the kind of magic she’d only heard about in whispers and songs. But it was real. It was great. And as if fluttered with new life she bit back a sob of happiness because it was theirs._


End file.
